The Sufferer & The Witness
by vw-power
Summary: Harry Potter isn't all powerful, but he's smart enough to know this. Nevertheless, he feels he can become 'The One'. Can he align himself with the 'right' kind of people to achieve this goal? And at what cost? Rated M for later chapters
1. Chapter 1 Destiny

**The Sufferer & The Witness**

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**A/N** – I don't own Harry Potter or any of the other characters (Shocking, but true). Given the amount of HP fanfiction out there, the plot/story is probably similar to another – I assure you this is purely coincidental. If you disagree and have seen other stories that mirror this one too closely in your opinion, please let me know…

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**Chapter 1: Destiny**

I tried to calm myself. Breathing slowly and keeping my eyes closed, I tried to shut out all that was around me – the smell, the cold, the hunger, the burning in my left arm. This was my chance, my destiny according to some. If successful, I would show that it wasn't about strength or some other magical method, only creativity and intelligence. If it came down to strength, well, this was going to be a dark day indeed. Mustn't think that … mustn't think that …

"Harry Potter."

"My Lord," I responded, kneeling low and kissing the hem of the Dark Lord's robe. "I have good news to share. McGonagall is no longer in place, so there is chaos at Hogwarts. In addition, the traitor Snape has been caught – he will not interfere again."

"Most excellent. Now there is no one that can stop us from taking Hogwarts," the Dark Lord whispered as his gaze took on a far away, triumphant look. "Come, we shall make our dominance complete!" With that the Dark Lord rose up apparated away to Hogsmeade, with me following soon after him.

* * *

The sight that greeted us was a testament to how close we were to the end of the war. The gates of Hogwarts, once so strong, were no longer on their hinges and we proceeded freely onto the grounds. The castle itself was scarred and billowed smoke. In front of the hazardous structure was a knot of people – my team and their spoils. They had managed to finally subdue Hagrid and Remus Lupin the werewolf. Both were in conjured cages and bound tightly, trying desperately to free themselves. Headmistress McGonagall was bloodied but still standing, several wands trained on her and the cold realization in her eyes that Hogwarts had fallen under her watch. The remaining members of the old Order of the Phoenix were bound and gathered as well, showing that my premise was correct – this was the last stronghold and if it fell the war would be essentially over.

Amidst this chaos, I started my deep, calming breaths again. _"This is going to work! This is going to work!"_ I mentally chanted. Looking up to try and keep the feelings of panic and nervousness out of my countenance, I locked eyes with her – dark hair askew and a few scratches, but otherwise unharmed. Her dark blue eyes bored into mine, a look of triumph on her face but something completely different in those eyes. Anxiety, we both felt it.

"My Lord," Blaise, my right-hand man, said as he stepped forward with a low bow and a kiss on the Dark Lord's hem. "We have succeeded. The castle is secure and these are the primary hostages you wished to see."

"Good work, Zabini. You have truly shown all that Potter said you were capable of. I will enjoy ending the lives of these ... 'Bearers of the Light'," he sneered mercilessly. "Now it's time to take the control I rightly deserve." With this the Dark Lord withdrew his want and sized up McGonagall for a variety of unforgiveables – probably a good round of Crucio before the AK.

This was it – I had to ensure my place. "My Lord," I quietly murmured, slightly surprising the Dark Lord. "I don't believe all of our followers are here with us. It seems like we should show to all those who take the mark what we have achieved today?" I remained low to the ground to try and remain as subservient as possible, knowing the effects if I have offended him.

Silence…never good in a time like this. Have I overstepped my bounds? I've tried for so long to reach to point of trust with the Dark Lord – to fail now would surely mean death. Finally I hear Daphne breathe again and realize this must be a good sign. "A good suggestion," he pondered slowly.

"Allow me to assist," and I raised my left arm, allowing the robe's sleeve to fall away. A soft gasp came from the defeated Order members as they looked upon the Dark Mark that graced my flesh.

"I can't believe it …" a stunned Lupin whispered from his cage, while the Headmistress wept softly and shook her head. The Dark Lord placed his left hand on my arm to hold it still, knowing the pain associated with summoning the followers would cause the muscles in my arm to spasm uncontrollably. With his right hand he lowered his wand toward the mark and I clenched my right hand into my robes, seemingly to brace myself for the pain that was to come. My breath became heavy and ragged – _"So close, so close …"_

Just as his wand was to touch my skin, I withdrew the gun and emptied the entire clip into his head and chest. The wand in his hand came piercing down into my arm and his eyes lit in rage momentarily before dulling to a distant stare. I fell down heavily to the ground, panting and shaking uncontrollably as Daphne ran over and scooped me into her arms, holding me tight and whispering calming words as tears ran freely down her face. My destiny was fulfilled, and I was now The One.


	2. Chapter 2 Platform 9 34

**The Sufferer & The Witness**

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**Chapter 2: Platform 9 ¾**

As I made my way through King's Cross station, I began getting worried. "_Platform 9 ¾? That can't be right_," I thought. Good thing I arrived plenty early, realizing that there could be trouble when I looked at the ticket Hagrid gave me. Hagrid seemed like a nice guy, but clearly took some information for granted when it came to helping me navigate through my first solo foray into the magical world.

The clocks showed half-ten and I found myself alone with my trunk and owl between platforms nine and 10. They were right beside each other – no tracks were even between the two! _"Okay, what's my next move here? Talk to someone and ask for directions?"_ I mentally snorted to myself. _"Yeah right. How do you start that conversation off with someone? 'I'm a wizard – no, really – and I need to catch a train on a platform that doesn't seem to exist …'" _I wasn't sure if I would be laughed at, hit, or taken into custody first, but all three would surely happen. Maybe other witches and wizards would be coming along soon – I could see what they do and follow their lead. That would work as long as I was in the right place…

I spied a bushy-haired girl with her parents. Her father was pulling a large truck similar to mine, and they didn't seem to have any luggage – maybe these people were headed to platform 9 ¾ as well. The group slowed their pace and stood next to one of the pillars dividing platform 9 and platform 10. With a quick look around, the bushy-haired girl stepped closer to the pillar and … vanished! I watched carefully and noticed that the girl had held her parents' hands and they too disappeared seemingly through the pillar. This has to be the right spot.

After I was sure the family had disappeared, I went over to the pillar and cast my own stealthy looks around to see if I was being watched – it seemed like proper caution at the time to an 11 year old. Now comfortable that I was inconspicuous (well, as much as one can be being an unaccompanied minor with an owl in a train station), I stepped closer to the pillar and felt…nothing. Instead of a pull or jerk, or even the cold hard surface of the pillar itself, I just started passing through the object. I noticed it was almost like passing through a curtain in that it became dark before pushing through into the light of a train platform. "How in the world was I supposed to figure that out on my own?" I muttered to myself before making my way to the train.

* * *

Once onboard, I chose an empty cabin and took out a book, alternating between reading and looking out the window as more and more families showed up. I still felt inferior to everyone – this was one of the tenants the Dursleys managed to beat into me all through my upbringing. Looking at the students assemble, I could see that this could be even worse than primary school. The magical world seemed like a club – one that not only did I not belong to, but didn't even know the rules.

After a few minutes of gazing out the window, but lost completely in my thoughts, I heard the compartment door slide open. My head jerked around to be greeted by the sight of the bushy-haired girl I followed to get onto the platform. "Hello, my name is Hermione Granger. May I join you?"

Momentarily stunned that anyone would willingly want to sit with me, I could only stare back at her with a slight awe-struck look on my face. "Er …" I finally choked out, just in time to see her cock her head to the side and narrow her eyes at me, "… sure …" At this one word, Hermione's eyes lit back up and she plopped down across from me and smoothed her robes out. She then leaned forward in a posture that clearly meant she was engaged and locked her now-excited eyes upon me. And waited …

"_What did this girl want? Was I supposed to entertain her somehow? Why was she staring at me_?" Again, I wasn't used to being the center of anyone's attention – well, unless they were looking to beat on me or blame me for some crazy incident or another. I began fidgeting in my seat while simultaneously trying to hide behind my book. A few seconds passed before she huffed out a breath of air. I looked up to see her push herself back against the seat and glare my way. "If you didn't want to talk to me, why did you allow me to come in? That's so rude!"

Now I panicked. "No! I didn't mean to be rude! It's just that … " I trailed off. Again she cocked her head – this must be her sign for 'processing' – and waited for me to continue. "Well, I don't usually have anyone who wants to talk to me. Sorry, I wasn't meaning to be rude." She glared at me a bit longer before finally relenting.

"Okay, I forgive you. I usually don't have a lot of friends either, so I can understand how you might be shy. Let's try again, shall we? I'm Hermione Granger … " and with this she offered her hand.

"Er … Harry Potter … " I mumbled and took her hand for a quick shake.

"I've read about you, you're …" she stopped abruptly and her eyes widened. "Sorry, that was rude of me. It's nice to meet you." I had to admire her resolve, as I could tell she was trying to fight her own desires to question me to death. She seemed nice enough – perhaps I would be able to have a friend in this world …


	3. Chapter 3 Sorting Ceremony

**The Sufferer & The Witness**

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**Chapter 3: Sorting Ceremony**

As the train began filling up, two others joined the compartment – Neville Longbottom and Sally-Ann Perks. Thankfully Hermione was able to keep the conversation moving as neither I nor the other two were able to overcome our shyness to do much more than perfunctory hellos. If I hadn't been so nervous I would have laughed at the sight of four misfits with awkward conversation and heavy silent stretches between them.

Hermione steered the conversation toward backgrounds, practically forcing each member in the compartment to give their condensed life story. Thankfully, she started with Neville. "Umm … there's not much to say I'm afraid. I'm a pure-blood but my parents are … sick … so I live with my Gran," he trailed off. "My family was certain I was a squib until my Uncle Algie through me out a window – turns out I did have a bit of magic in me." He shrugged at this, acting like it was quite a normal occurrence in the magical world.

"Wait, back up," Hermione demanded after Neville had finished. "You first said you're a pure-blood, meaning …" she let her comment hang, clearly inviting Neville to fill in the blanks for us. A quick glance at Sally-Ann and I indicated we were equally clueless as to what that meant.

"A pure-blood is someone who has magic on both sides of their family for several generations. A lot of the wizarding world puts stock in such things I guess. If you have one parent whose family is magical, then you're called a half-blood. If both parents don't have magical heritage, you're called a Muggle-born. Muggles are non-magical people."

"Well, then I'm a Muggle-born," Hermione cut in. "Neither of my parents are magical so this is all new to me. Will there be some sort of orientation for people like me at Hogwarts?"

"Umm…no probably not," Neville started, looking uncomfortable at having to be the 'expert' on wizarding society in the compartment. "The wizarding world is kinda old-fashioned – at least that's what my Gran says. People kind of assume you know how to operate in this society. If you don't, a lot of people go back to the Muggle world and no one really seems to care." Neville then seemed to fight an internal battle, furtively looking up to Hermione and down to his lap over and over. "I…could try and help you if you wish, although I already told you I'm not much of a wizard…"

"Nonsense!" Hermione snorted. "I would love any help you can give, as I'm sure Harry and Sally-Ann would as well." I nodded fervently in an effort to bolster the boy's confidence that he could do this. Heck, I needed him to do this. Neville nodded his head slowly in acknowledgment before Hermione again drove the conversation, this time to Sally-Ann.

"Oh, my turn? Okay…I'm Sally-Ann Perks and I'm a Muggle-born I guess. I live in Manchester with my parents." She was exceedingly shy, as this was all said in such quiet tones I wasn't sure if I just read her lips.

"Excellent! And Harry?" Hermione turned to me with an expectant look – a look I would come to dread. I had introduced myself to Neville and Sally-Ann as just 'Harry' when they entered the compartment, but now I had to give a bit more. Leaning more toward Sally-Ann's brief introduction as a template I collected my thoughts.

"Erm, right. I'm Harry Potter," with this Neville's eyes grew large and I quickly fixed my gaze into my lap in order to try and finish the introduction. "My parents died so I live with my Muggle aunt, uncle, and cousin in Surrey."

After several moments of abject staring, Neville finally regained his composure. "So why do you need me to tell you about the wizarding world, Harry?"

"Well, I was raised by my aunt & uncle. They want nothing to do with the magical world and I didn't even know how my parents really died until last month when Hagrid came to tell me about Hogwarts. I'm pretty much starting from scratch." It was painful to admit, but I probably knew less about my parents than either Neville or Hermione at this point.

Neville seemed to consider this, then shrugged. "Okay, where do you all want me to begin?"

* * *

"Potter, Harry!"

As I stepped forward, whispers suddenly broke out all over the hall. Immediately my mind began racing, wondering anew how the sorting worked and whether I could 'request' a house to be in. If I could request a house, how was I supposed to know which one to choose? Maybe I should have asked Neville about this back on the train…

The last thing I saw before the hat dropped over my eyes was the hall full of people craning to get a good look at me. Now seeing nothing more than the black insides of the hat, I waited.

"Hmmm …" said a small voice in my ear. "Difficult. Very difficult. Plenty of courage, I see. Not a bad mind either. There's talent, my goodness, yes – and a nice thirst to prove yourself, now that's interesting … So where shall I put you?"

At this point I had no idea what to think or do. I didn't recall seeing anyone 'talking' to the hat, so I supposed I should just wait until it made a decision. All I knew was that the whispers around the hall were increasing as each agonizing second ticked by. While everyone so far had been sorted to a house, I started to feel like he may become the first Hogwarts student to fail before they even started classes.

At the head table Dumbledore shifted forward in his chair, his blue eyes intent and alert as the hat was clearly deliberating on many things in sorting Harry Potter. Minerva McGonagall met his gaze and thinned her lips into a hard line. She sensed the headmaster felt this was a crucial decision, as if it may decide more than simply where Harry Potter would dorm for the next seven years.

"Hufflepuff would certainly be friendly and accepting; something you've desired for a long while. But there's such drive here – it needs a chance to grow. While Ravenclaw would give you knowledge, it isn't the only thing you're seeking – not the best fit. So that leaves Gryffindor or Slytherin …"

Even under the hat, I could feel the students and staff in the great hall becoming more boisterous in their conversations. "Had anyone's sorting taken this long? Has the hat stopped working because this is Harry Potter?" McGonagall turned her glare toward the students and immediately the decibels dropped in half.

"Gryffindor would be great for you – a chance to hone your skills and continue with your family heritage. You have a unique future, one that could benefit from either house and Gryffindor provides one such route to embrace that future. But Slytherin provides interesting possibilities for a very unique outcome – potentially dangerous, but most unique… I don't often give advice, but here I feel I must. Stay true to your conscious, Harry – you will need it in SLYTHERIN!"


	4. Chapter 4 First Impressions

**The Sufferer & The Witness**

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**Chapter 4: First Impressions**

As I sat down with my new housemates, I felt all eyes judging me critically. Across from me was a small blond-haired boy with a pointed face. He was bookended by two large, slightly vacant-looking doughy boys. They reminded me a bit of Dudleys-in-training. Next to me was a brown-haired girl who was, well, 'still trying to grow into her face'. I was trying to be nice and not think that someone must have taken a cricket bat to her nose when she was young. "Er, hi," I started off lamely.

"So you're Harry Potter," observed the blond-haired boy, slowly offering his hand across the table to me. "I'm Draco Malfoy. This is Crabbe and Goyle," he said, motioning to the two lumps on either side of him. "It's good to have another person from a proper wizarding family join us."

I wasn't sure what to make of this comment, so I merely smiled and turned my attention back to the sorting ceremony. Finally Blaise Zabini made his way over to the Slytherin table and the feast began. With all the choices of food available, I decided to take a little of everything so I could get an idea of what types of wizarding food I liked – it looked mostly familiar, but the one thing I had learned about the magical world so far is to never assume.

"I must say I'm surprised you were sorted into Slytherin, seeing as your parents were Gryffindors," Draco started. I remembered the hat made some reference to family heritage and Gryffindor. But I had no idea my parents were not Slytherins, so I stared back at Draco with big eyes. "No matter though. That's definitely an upgrade for you, as you won't be surrounded by filthy mudbloods and red-headed Weasleys," he snorted in disgust.

"I'm sorry – mudbloods?"

At this comment all the students in the area stared incredulously at this new member of their house. "You know – _mudbloods_." Draco assumed I must not have heard him or something, so he pronounced the word clearly and a little louder. "Those who don't come from pure-blooded families."

"Oh…"

Draco quirked up an eyebrow and set down his utensils. "Don't you know what a mudblood is?"

I began to shift uncomfortably on the bench, realizing that those around me were now also waiting to hear my answer. "Not really. You see, I didn't even know I was a wizard until about a month ago. My parents died when I was small and I had to live with my uncle and aunt. They aren't magical, so I didn't know anything about this world until Hagrid came to pick me up for Hogwarts."

Sheer astonishment filled the students' faces. "You mean you know nothing about the wizarding world? And you've had to live with muggles all your life? How did you survive?" Draco clearly couldn't comprehend this situation as he stared back at me. For my part, I shrugged my shoulders a little and focused back on my plate, not making eye contact with anyone.

* * *

After the welcoming feast, professors McGonagall and Snape made their way past the stone gargoyle and opened the door to the headmaster's office. "While I'm certain I know what topic brings the pleasure of your company, let's keep up niceties shall we? Lemon drop?" Dumbledore asked as he picked up a tin from his desk, proffering it to the professors. McGonagall shook her head slightly while Snape merely scowled at the old man. "I see – right to business then? Perhaps we should have a discussion with the sorting hat."

Once the sorting hat was on his desk and the professors were seated, Dumbledore started off the discussion. "My good friend, I must say you caused quite a stir today at the sorting. While we cannot and will not change your decision," he looked briefly at the two professors to reinforce this point, "we are curious as to how you arrived at this."

The hat seemed to survey the group and pondered its words carefully. "What I saw is a complex picture, Albus. Truthfully speaking he could do well in any of the four houses – it's a matter of which trait you place emphasis on. But knowing what his future holds, he will need a house that gives him the best chance to succeed."

The headmaster cringed slightly before rearranging his features into a more placid, introspective gaze behind his steepled fingers. Unfortunately for him, the hat's comments and McGonagall's sharp eyes betrayed his secrets on both counts. "Albus, what does the sorting hat mean regarding Harry's future?" Now Snape's features darkened as well, hoping the headmaster would keep his confidences.

"Minerva, I feel there are … significant events … to come that Harry will be integrally involved in," he started slowly. "Due to the circumstances surrounding James' and Lily's deaths and the Dark Lord's inability to kill Harry, I fear that Harry will once again have to face evil and prevail."

McGonagall looked back and forth between the headmaster and Snape, carefully assessing their body language. Standing up and fixing a narrow gaze toward her boss, she started in a cold, unflinching tone, "I know there is something significant here that you two are keeping from me. I believe I have the right as Deputy Headmistress to be privy to information that will help keep one of our students safe!" And with the end of her declaration, she folded her arms across her chest and glared defiantly at the headmaster to refuse her edict. Albus could tell when she wouldn't budge and this was clearly one of those times.

The headmaster slowly got up and patted Snape on the shoulder as he passed by to gaze at Fawkes on his perch. "Minerva, you must understand this is highly sensitive information. I trust you to keep this secret with your life, and please realize that it may indeed come to that."

Whatever she was expecting the headmaster to say, this clearly wasn't it. She nodded slowly and settled back into her chair, unsure what the next turn might be in this long, eventful evening.

"Several years ago, I heard a prophecy regarding the Dark Lord and Harry Potter. In simple terms, it stated that one would be born and rise up against the Dark Lord, and he would be marked as an equal. They will confront each other and only one can live while the other dies. A portion of this prophecy made it to Tom Riddle, who I believe to be the Dark Lord in question. Upon hearing the prophecy, he decided to take action. However, the prophecy didn't mention Harry by name; one of two children could have been his challenger. Riddle chose Harry Potter when he attacked and killed James and Lily yet couldn't kill Harry. Harry has now been marked as the one to face the Dark Lord."

Snape broke the contemplative silence when he asked, "Sir, do you feel the prophecy will ensure Potter stays away from the Dark Lord's influence given tonight's … surprising … turn of events?" Albus turned and gave a long gaze seemingly through his desk, as if turning the exact phrasing of the prophecy over and over to see if he could answer certainly.

"I believe this prophecy does indeed imply Harry will stay on the Light Side. However, I request you keep an eye on him, Severus. Despite its greatness, the House of Slytherin can be a challenging environment for those that must take a difficult road."

"Perhaps I should elaborate on my choice, Albus?" the sorting hat interjected, momentarily startling the human occupants of the room. "If we believe the prophecy to be true and that he is The One," at this Snape snorted in disgust, "and we think that he cannot be turned away from the Light Side, we must give him the best chance to succeed. He has the raw skills to be in any house, but I had to consider where these talents will take him. He's intelligent and has magical skill, but he's too far behind to be a serious challenger to Riddle any time soon."

"That would mean a dangerous path if placed in Ravenclaw or Gryffindor…" the headmaster mused while stroking his beard.

"Precisely. Both houses would give him a false sense of his accomplishments and could lead to a feeling he can compete when in fact he cannot. That leaves loyalty and cunning as his best options. Hufflepuff would fit him well, but he hasn't learned the leadership skills to rise – he would be influential, but still a follower if left to his own devices. Thus Slytherin is his best option. He has a chance to learn leadership but doesn't need to be a true leader right away, what with the house's own unique twist to loyalty. He could use the knowledge and skill of others to develop a plan and potentially restore Slytherin's reputation somewhat in the process."

"You place too much faith in an arrogant 11 year old boy!" Snape snapped. He was having enough trouble trying to clear his mind from James and Lily; now he had to think of their son as the one to destroy the Dark Lord while simultaneously bringing Slytherin to a more moderate view of the world?

"Severus!" Albus sharply warned the potions master. Turning back to the sorting hat, Albus rearranged his features in a pensive look. "To do all that you're suggesting requires a great deal of character. You are sure of his resolve?"

"Yes. He's had a difficult life to be sure and he desperately is looking for acceptance. Let me be clear as well, Severus – he is not arrogant; once comfortable he may become confident. But from what I saw, he would choose the right path over the easy path if he had to decide. While this is by far a perfect solution, I believe this is the best chance he has to succeed."

Minerva couldn't help but glare at Dumbledore for his insistence on leaving the boy with his relatives so many years ago. If he had a chance to grow up in a more accommodating environment, perhaps he would have more options to succeed – perhaps be in Gryffindor like he should be …

"Thank you, this has been most informative," Dumbledore returned as he picked up the hat and placed it gently on the shelf. Turning back to his colleagues he proposed, "Perhaps we should continue these discussions every week at about this time? But for now I think I shall go to bed in order to see what exciting events occur tomorrow."


	5. Chapter 5 Introduction to Slytherin

**The Sufferer & The Witness**

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**Chapter 5: Introduction to the House of Slytherin**

When the meal and announcements finished, the Slytherins marched out of the great hall and into the lower levels of the castle. Throughout the journey, the prefect leading us gave a running monologue of the things we were passing as well as the key facts essential to being a Slytherin. We finally reached a door which swung open after the prefect gave the password. Inside I saw a large, comfortable sitting room that looked as if the room was underwater and received only filtered light from the outside. The fireplaces on either end of the space did help offset the murky feeling, providing a cozy glow for the tables and couches huddled around them.

I continued following my new classmates though a doorway on the other side of the sitting room before stopping at a door labeled 'first year dorm'. Inside the room – about as big as the whole downstairs in the Dursley's house – I saw six four-poster beds with dark green hangings surrounding them. The beds were arranged military style with three along each long wall. The far end of the room had another doorway in it, which I presumed led to a common loo. The first bed on the right contained my belongings, so I started checking over this area and putting things away. This didn't take long – I really don't have that much stuff – so after a bit more fussing around I got ready for bed.

I again relied on my trick from the train – taking out a book and leaning against the far back corner bedpost so that I could split my attentions between reading and viewing the other boys. I learned fairly early on in primary school that I was an easy target, so the more inconspicuous I could be the better off everyone was. To help with that, I started gravitating to points in a room where I would be in the shadows, almost forgotten, but could see everything going on. Since I would get picked on sooner or later, I liked to at least know what they were plotting before facing it head on.

The other boys obviously knew each other well, with Draco holding court and relating some story while animatedly waving his hands around. The only other person in the dorm who did not seem to be drawn to Draco was Blaise Zabini – the last person sorted earlier this evening. Blaise sat on his bed, which was across from mine, listening to the story but not moving closer to the group of boys. He clearly knew them as he politely answered questions the others asked with a familiar ease, but it seemed like he wanted to keep some distance between himself and the others. Blaise canted his head toward me and gave a calculating look that was neither friendly nor challenging, just … appraising. I had never met someone like this and frankly I was baffled as to what to make of him.

Draco, I could figure out. There were many kids like him growing up, wanting to be the center of attention and boasting about their skills, money – whatever it was that helped set themselves above others. He seemed well liked and at least spoke with a modicum of intelligence, so perhaps he deserved to feel that way. I could see how he could be mean to others though; I made a mental note to be a bit wary around him in the future.

Crabbe and Goyle – Vinny and Greg seemed to be how they were addressed by their friends – were also easy enough to figure out. They were aware they didn't have the confidence or intelligence to be a leader, so they followed. I have no idea how these three became friends, but it seemed mutually beneficial – Draco had an audience to reinforce his superiority and Vinny and Greg had a leader to help them in the areas they weren't comfortable navigating alone. I often wondered why I didn't become a follower in primary school. In a larger group I would have a bit of a safety net from getting bullied too much and I wouldn't be as isolated. Here was another opportunity to try that route, but I wanted to see how Vinny and Greg were treated first; it would probably be infinitely worse to be bullied by someone who wouldn't overlook you now and then.

Ted Nott was a bit harder to place. He seemed capable of taking hold of the conversation, telling (apparently) highly amusing stories as well. But for some reason he didn't have the cachet that Draco managed to pull off. It was almost like he knew he wasn't the equivalent of Vinny and Greg, but he wasn't sure if he could really be a leader either. He didn't appear to be as rich as Draco, so maybe that was some of the problem. I thought it would be interesting to see what happened to him going forward. If he turned out nice enough and was able to get some self-confidence, he could be another one that I could latch onto as a follower. Assuming I decided to go that route, that is...

Thinking through my observations about each boy, I realized that I once again had little chance to make much of an inroad with these guys. I hoped before coming to Hogwarts that maybe the rules were different in the magical world and I would gain a few friends. It appeared though that the social hierarchy of primary school translated to this society well. "_I wish I had been sorted into the same house as Hermione or Neville – that would have been a bit easier_," I mentally groused before pushing those thoughts down again. It wouldn't do to dwell on that and besides, this was a boarding school. I would get plenty of opportunities to see if I could make a friend with either of those two in the future, especially if we were in the same classes.

Classes … tomorrow would definitely be one of the weirder days in my life. And with that thought I decided to turn in and get as much rest as I could before I started doing magic … making magic … performing magic?

Whatever …

* * *

Having never been much for sleeping in – not by choice, since I was usually on cooking duty at the Dursleys – I made my way down to the great hall for breakfast early. I had on my school robes, which managed to hide my baggy clothes, and sat in a deserted portion of the Slytherin table. As the tables filled up, I noticed the spots around me were some of the last to be occupied. Whether this was because I was a lowly first year, already pegged as being social suicide to those that were near me, or something completely different I wasn't sure. I performed a subtle 'sniff test' – seemed okay to me – so I don't think that was the reason. I exchanged nervous greetings of "Hi" to those that were forced to sit near me, but no other conversation really took place.

Finally, Professor Snape (who the prefects told us was the head of Slytherin) came toward the student table. "Here are your schedules. I suggest you familiarize yourself with them and where the classrooms are using the map on the back. I do not tolerate tardiness and neither do the other teachers. Failure to arrive on time may cost Slytherin points in the house cup competition. That would make me most … displeased …" From his tone it was clear this was not a man to be messed with.

Coming up to my spot on the table, Professor Snape gave a glare and swiftly dropped my schedule on the table. He then stopped and turned to me slowly, bending down slightly to look me in the eye and give a scrutinizing look. "You will obey me, Potter," he ground out in a low, menacing tone. "I knew your parents," he nearly spit the word out with such loathing, "and if you act up in any way that is unbecoming a Slytherin you … will … regret it."

I nodded quickly to show I really, really understood his point and tried to keep from melting under the table. "Yes sir …" I whispered, having no idea whether the response would get him to back down or cause him to strangle me on the spot. A few more seconds of his stare boring down on me brought the beginnings of a headache before he abruptly raised an eyebrow and turned to stalk away.

I let a few more seconds pass before I felt I could get up without violently shaking, took a deep breath, and picked up my schedule off the table. At this stage I began to seriously doubt whether I was cut out to be a wizard after all.


	6. Chapter 6 The Remembrall

**The Sufferer & The Witness**

* * *

**Chapter 6: The Rembrall**

The days rolled by and I tried to keep from drowning in all the new information thrown my way. Reading the books helped somewhat, but it turned out only Potions and History of Magic (and parts of Astronomy) could really be understood fairly well just from a book. The other classes required either large amounts of practical work or a solid foundation of magical knowledge – both of which I was in short supply of. The written assignments weren't too bad, so I spent a good chunk of my studying holed up in out-of-the-way rooms scattered around the castle, practicing the wand movements and incantations necessary to actually perform the spells being asked of me.

A bright spot was the castle itself – so many odd things in it and places to explore. I began getting into a routine of exploring during the day then taking the time after dinner to first do my practical exercises in a deserted room before hitting the library for a bit. As curfew drew near, I would head back to the Slytherin common room and work on finishing up any written work outstanding and reading either my textbooks or library books I found that I thought were useful or interesting.

All this activity kept me away from most of the other students, which was something that suited me just fine. The Slytherins generally ignored me, but some of the others would ask me about the Dark Lord and how I defeated him. I didn't know anything more than they did, and kept having to remind them that I was only a baby and didn't have any memories of that day. They always looked either disappointed or annoyed; it seemed like they thought I was holding out on them or something. After the first few days, word must have gotten around and now pretty much everyone left me alone.

I would occasionally see Neville and Hermione in the library studying together. Well, that's not entirely true; Neville would be studying and Hermione looked to be tutoring him. Today I decided to at least say hi to them, having not really done so since the train ride to Hogwarts.

"Erm … hi guys," I started lamely. Neville looked momentarily startled but Hermione flashed a huge grin my way. Emboldened, I pressed forward. "So what are you studying?"

"We're finishing up our Transfiguration homework. Neville was having a hard time with the wand movements so I was helping him," Hermione said, still in her teacher voice. She did clear a spot in the table, obviously expecting me to join them. I cautiously sat down, figuring I should stay for a bit and catch up at least even if I wasn't going to study Transfiguration with them. "How have classes gone for you, Harry?"

"Um … okay I guess." I started shifting in my seat and began scrutinizing the woodgrain patterns in the table. "It's a lot of information to absorb and I feel like everyone knows so much more than I do, but I think I'm getting the hang of it."

"Well good. I was worried when we were sorted into Gryffindor but you went to Slytherin. There aren't as many students that went to your house during the sorting, so you might not have as many study partners." I hadn't even thought of this, but now that Hermione pointed it out I realized she was right. Most of my classes had around 25 to 30 students, but Slytherin only had 10 students.

"So why is that?" I blurted out without really thinking. I hadn't intended on getting into a long conversation, but I found that I was oddly comfortable with these two.

"That's because Slytherin is usually for pure-bloods," Neville said, obviously startling himself that he had readily joined in the discussion. Now committed, he plunged forward with his explanation. "Slytherin has sort of a reputation among the students as being pure-bloods and kind of … dark …" he trailed off. Nevile looked worried he had offended, so I tried to help him out a bit.

"No worries, Neville – I'm not offended. I did hear Draco say something … mean … about muggle-borns, so I can see what you mean about the blood thing." I paused, as another question popped into my head. "What do you mean by 'dark'?"

At this Hermione and Neville exchanged glances. Hermione took the lead on this one. "Most of the supporters for the Dark Lord were pure-blood families that have long histories in Slytherin, Harry. The house has a reputation for leaning toward evil wizards – dark."

"So you think I'm going to become an evil wizard?" I asked incredulously.

"No! Not at all!" Hermione hastily replied. "That's just a generalization, much like muggles calling all Asians smart."

I pondered her words and could see where she was coming from. I wondered if perhaps it was a good thing I didn't really talk with anyone in my own house. "_Well, I don't really talk to anyone_," I mentally corrected. A sudden concern flitted through my mind.

"So … should I not be talking to you? I don't want you two to have trouble from the other students for associating with a Slytherin."

Upon hearing this, Hermione turned pink and looked down at her lap. Neville also hung his head, but more in defeat than in embarrassment. "Well …" Hermione trailed off. "Neville and I aren't exactly popular, so I don't think it will matter. We're just happy to have someone to talk to, and you seem like a nice person."

"Um … thanks," I started. "But that's not what I asked." I was happy that they didn't think I was evil, but I wasn't ready to let them be further isolated just for my benefit.

"There's a few folks who will care," Neville replied.

"Ron Weasley, the stupid prat!" Hermione spat out.

"Er, yes. He will claim I'm being a traitor I suppose," Neville continued. "I don't really care though because in my book he's acting he same as the Slytherins are that he doesn't like. He's judging based on the house, not on the person,"

"_That was probably the most insightful comment I've ever heard an eleven year old make_," I mentally commented.

"That was probably the most insightful comment I've ever heard a classmate make," Hermione said in awe, staring at Neville with her head slightly cocked as if seeing him in a new light. "_Damn – I __was__ right!"_

At this Neville blushed, shrugged his shoulders, and went back to his Transfiguration practice. Hermione was 'processing' for another beat then quickly changed direction back to me. "Oh, remember Sally-Ann from the train? She's already left. I guess a lot of the muggle-borns and even a few half-bloods don't last very long here. The magical world is too different and they choose to go back. So while the other houses have a lot more students than Slytherin right now, it will all start to even out. I think the seventh year has about 10 students per house right now."

I started thinking through all the changes I was trying to keep up with and silently wondered whether I would make it or not. "_If I don't stick with it I'm going back to the Dursleys_," I reminded myself. I got up and left the library, quietly chuckling. If that's not motivation, I don't know what is.

* * *

Once again, professors McGonagall and Snape found themselves moving past the gargoyle guarding the headmasters office. School had been in session a week and it was time to compare notes on one Harry Potter.

"Enter!" Dumbledore commanded just before Snape was about to rap on the door to signal their arrival.

McGonagall rolled her eyes. "He thinks he's so damn clever …" she huffed, eliciting a small smirk from the Head of Slytherin house. Snape quickly returned to his dour countenance as they entered and sat before the headmaster.

"So, who would like to begin?" Dumbledore intoned without preamble. "Perhaps ladies first? Minerva, do you have any observations you would like to share?"

"Well Albus, he's very polite and quiet. He's very new to the wizarding world as he knows nothing outside of what he has been able to glean from the textbooks by reading ahead. I even had to correct how he was holding his wand in the first class before he poked someone's eye out." Here the headmaster leaned forward in his chair, obviously hoping for some insight into how talented Harry may be. McGonagall paused a bit, seeing his interest. "Mind you it's early, so one can never be too sure about these things …" Again she paused, trying to choose her words carefully. "I think he will be a very good wizard once he learns. But so far, I don't see anything that indicates he will be a great wizard." She felt bad for condemning the poor boy so early, but she could easily rattle off half a dozen other students who probably had more magical potential than Harry seemed to possess.

For his part, Dumbledore waived off this observation casually. "Ah, we'll just have to wait until he becomes more comfortable with magic and his surroundings. Severus, what have you heard and seen?"

"Headmaster, I must concur with Minerva's observations. At this time I don't see anything that would indicate he is exceptional – I think he will be above average magically, but not superior. He does not seem to socially function well at all, as he was the last person to be paired up in my Potions class. Draco indicates he doesn't really talk to any of the other boys in his dorm and the rest of the Slytherins essentially ignore him. While there's curiosity about his status as the 'Boy Who Lived'," Snape sneered at this title, unable to keep his disdain from seeping through, "the students of my house realize it's poor form to pester him about it. Something the other houses seem to be unable to do …" For all his animosity toward Potter, Snape did feel this was something the boy shouldn't have to be subjected to.

"Thank you Severus," Albus started. After rubbing his beard a few times he furrowed his brow and began his own observations. "I have received reports from the castle regarding him as well. It seems he doesn't sleep much, so he studies mostly at night. When he's not in class during the day, he explores the castle, the grounds, or looks through the library. It seems like he is living an isolated life, although he has spoken to Neville Longbottom and Hermione Granger a couple times. I'm afraid all I can conclude right now is that he's still an enigma …"

* * *

Today's schedule made me nervous. Flying lessons. I guess witches and wizards really do ride brooms around …

The schedule called for the Gryffindors to join the Slytherins in the lesson. Draco had been going on and on about how good of a flyer he was, but I hadn't heard Neville or Hermione discuss anything about the subject on the few occasions we talked. As I came out to the grounds, I could see a nervous-looking Hermione and a decidedly green Neville – maybe they weren't keen on flying either and didn't bring the subject up to keep from losing their lunches. After lining up with the other students – I seemed to be the dividing line between the Slytherins on my right and the Gryffindors on my left – we attempted to call the broom into our hands and begin.

I felt pretty proud – this didn't seem to be as hard as I feared and was able to get the broom to come up immediately. Neville though … well, he didn't have a good day. Somehow he lost control – even though we were supposed to be standing on the ground – and wound up taking a fall and breaking his arm. Then Draco and Ron Weasley got into a fight regarding Neville's dropped Remembrall. Draco is surprisingly quick, and with Greg and Vince there to keep everyone else at bay Weasley didn't stand much of a chance.

That evening as I got back to my dorm and prepared for bed, Draco was still describing the pounding administered to Ron and was tossing the Remembrall easily from one hand to another. Again, Draco had his posse around him as they made jokes about brave, but dumb, Gryffindors and 'blood traitor Weasleys'. And again, Blaise looked on and smiled amusedly every now and then, but kept to his bed while reading a magazine.

* * *

Breakfast meant more of the same – I arrived early and sat alone the entire time. The only difference was Draco, who came storming in livid about something. As he passed, I distinctly heard the words, "Remembrall", "Stolen", and the comment "I swear I left it on top of my robes". It seems like someone lost their toy. Greg and Vince looked equally upset for their friend, but Ted was smirking. Seemed he thought it was hugely funny that Draco lost his prize and couldn't spend the rest of the day gloating about it. Over on the Gryffindor side, Neville came in looking sheepish as always and Ron came in shortly thereafter. He looked slightly worse for the wear but mostly it was his pride that was hurt. A pair of redheads – they must be his brothers – seemed to be enjoying making fun of his lack of pugilistic prowess.

Soon it was time for class and I headed off to potions, and I casually followed the other first-year Slytherins to the dungeon classroom of Professor Snape. Neville was running behind me, trying to keep from being late and taking the brunt of Professor's wrath again.

After a few put-downs and some general direction, we were instructed to grab our ingredients and, thankfully, work on our own instead of pairing up. I used the ensuing chaos to slip the Remembrall from my pocket and dropped it into Neville's book bag before starting to cut the gurdy-root. Sometimes being an insomniac has its advantages.


	7. Chapter 7 Morning Routine

**The Sufferer & The Witness**

* * *

**Chapter 7: Morning Routine**

"Now that you've cut up your ingredients, find a partner and follow the instructions on the board. Do not be careless with this potion because if you make mistakes …" Here the Professor turned and gave Neville the most malevolent glare he could muster, "you could seriously injure not only yourself but your classmates as well. Begin."

I groaned inwardly. Here I thought I wasn't going to go through the anxiety of getting a partner this time. I didn't even bother to look around, as I knew the drill by now – Slytherins wouldn't work with Gryffindors, so that meant one of the 10 Slytherins would have to be my partner. Whoever couldn't partner up with one of their friends would be stuck with me. Last time it was Millicent Bulstrode who was clearly not excited to be working with me. Given that she was not the most attractive or socially graceful creature, I assumed she would be the odd one out again. That's okay though; she was competent enough and wasn't rude which were really the only requirements of a potions partner. However, she didn't come to my table either. I looked up and noticed that she chose to work with a Gryffindor instead, leaving me by myself. Apparently there was an odd number of students today and I was a one-man leper colony.

I took a deep breath and worked my way to the front. "Um, Professor Snape sir?" I asked, keeping my head bowed. "I don't have a partner to work with today."

Professor Snape whirled around from the ingredients cabinet he was organizing and glared down at me. A moment later the words sunk in and he raised an eyebrow, appraising me for a few seconds. "You are correct, Potter. Evan Smith from brave Gryffindor," again the Professor couldn't keep the sarcasm out of his voice, "has decided to leave school." A smirk came across his face and he leaned down to get closer to me. I raised my head to see his eyes boring into me and with a silky voice he quietly said, "As a result, you are … alone."

I flinched at those words, but maintained eye contact. "_I can't show weakness, I can't show weakness,_" I mentally chanted. After a deep breath, I let out a cracked whisper, "Yes sir."

The Professor's smirk slowly melted as he continued to stare back at me. Again just as a headache began to sprout he cocked an eyebrow up and stood straight, looking slightly contemplative. "You can work on this assignment alone. I believe even you can get it done before the end of the class. Now go …"

Not needing to be told twice, I twirled around on the spot and went back to my cauldron to start brewing the potion. I was used to being alone and it didn't bother me anymore. But hearing someone else say it made me feel … less human somehow. I could now feel the looks and whispers around me again; some jeering, some curious. But I felt they were all wondering the same thing: What is wrong with this guy?

* * *

It was a long night. I had a brief bit of joy leaving the great hall after dinner when I overheard conversation at the Gryffindor table centering on Neville finding his Remembrall. "I have no idea how it got there. Ron said Malfoy had it, but this afternoon I found it right here in my bag …" At least I did something right … right? But beyond that, I couldn't get my mind to shut off. Why was I so content on being alone? Why, even in this world, did everyone think I was a freak?

I thought back again to the muggle world and mentally began a checklist. The muggle world felt more … normal I guess. I knew the good and bad (though mostly bad) things about living there, whereas I had no such comfort in this one. True, nobody was actively trying to beat me up; I was just ignored. Thoroughly and completely ignored. Another thing that bothered me was that there wasn't a PE class in this world. Flying was the only 'activity' that we had on our schedules and it didn't really count. I imagined it was like horseback riding – yeah you were outside and moved around some, but there really wasn't much of an exercise component. I decided that maybe my mornings would be better spent outside than sitting at the Slytherin table watching everyone come and go for an hour and a half.

That's how I found myself outside before breakfast, navigating the hills between the castle, the forbidden forest, and the black lake. Since the school was in Scotland, the terrain was more rugged than the largely flat and suburban settings of Surrey. This made crossing the school grounds some serious work, especially if one wanted to explore along the way. Since students rarely did that kind of thing, especially early morning, I had the grounds to myself.

Entering the great hall for breakfast a bit later than normal, I noticed the noise die down and people staring at me as I went to the Slytherin table. Well, staring more than normal that is. I found the least crowded section of the table and sat down, pulling some eggs and bacon my way.

"Why are you all dirty?" It took me a beat to realize that someone might be talking to me. Even though I looked up I really didn't think I was being asked a question, so I was still mid-chew with eggs. My eyes locked onto two girls sitting about 5 feet down the table, both gaping at me and my slovenly appearance. Pansy was the one who spoke, and repeated her query. "I said, why are you all dirty? Didn't you take a bath this morning?"

I finally managed to gulp down my eggs and scanned my appearance. I wasn't in school robes yet, so I was wearing my baggy muggle clothing. My trainers were caked in mud and my jeans were soaked up to my knees, courtesy of the long, dew-filled grass I had been tromping through. While I didn't think I smelled that bad, I imagined the mud I picked up from the banks of the black lake probably had an odor about it. "Oh … erm … hi Pansy," I stumbled through. Pansy merely rolled her eyes and gave an expectant look back. "Right. I decided to take a walk this morning. You know, around the castle grounds. It's a nice day … and … all …" I trailed off, seeing the incredulous look on her face.

"But why did you do that? Couldn't you sleep? And where are your robes? If you get points taken off of our house, Potter, I'll – "

She was quickly cut off by the girl sitting beside her (and farther away from me, much to her relief I bet). "Actually, he doesn't have to be in school robes until classes start. But you better watch it, Potter. Filch will have your head if you are tracking mud and water everywhere." Stunned that someone was actually helping me, I failed to respond for a few seconds. I looked behind me to see that, thankfully, there weren't tracks coming into the great hall. I'm sure there were in the foyer though…

"Right … thanks …" I mumbled as I hurriedly got up to escape before real trouble came. Exiting the great hall I realized that I would have to plan better before taking another morning walk.

Still looking gobsmacked, Pansy glanced over to Daphne sitting beside her. "You got him to leave and you kept us from losing points. Thanks Daphne!"

For her part, Daphne merely shrugged and went back to her breakfast. Inside, she was smiling. Maybe she had made a friend.


	8. Chapter 8 The Feminine Side of Slytherin

**The Sufferer & The Witness**

* * *

**Chapter 8: The Feminine Side of Slytherin**

Daphne was still adjusting to life at Hogwarts. Prior to arriving at school, the only other person her age she spent much time with was Blaise Zabini. His Mum, obsessed with staying young-looking, took both magical and Muggle advice on how to achieve this goal. One of the Muggle recommendations given to her was diet – eating freshly grown produce and taking meat from only naturally-raised livestock. By choice, the Greengrass family kept a low profile in the wizarding world by living away from London in rural Lincolnshire and concentrating on mostly agricultural business ventures. As a result, Daphne and her younger sister Astoria knew quite a bit about the Muggle world as the family farms drew customers from both worlds.

Over the centuries the family used the isolation of Lincolnshire to their advantage, being as resolute as Switzerland in maintaining their neutrality during each and every skirmish between light and dark that plagued the rest of the wizarding populace. Since the family was neither rich nor influential, but provided important food items necessary for both sides, the approach worked brilliantly. The customers would still come, regardless of their beliefs, to get Greengrass meats and produce yet left the family alone to continue focus on their farms.

Growing up, Daphne's Mum taught her and Astoria about the politics and customs of wizarding society. These lessons intrigued Daphne immensely; she enjoyed her family's farm but often wondered how different London or Manchester was. The largest place she had been to was Sheffield and was amazed at not only the small Wizard shopping district but the size of the Muggle city as well. Her trip to King's Cross Station only accentuated these reactions. The people, noise, and buildings were truly a sight to behold and Daphne could feel herself being drawn to the city life.

Not surprisingly, Daphne found herself in Slytherin. Only her Dad went to Hogwarts (her Mum home-schooled) but both her parents had a calculating, business-oriented mind that Daphne inherited. What was surprising was how different the other Slytherins were, as they seemed to stand more for political maneuvering and social standing. She quickly heard all about the pure-blood agendas and the wealth and influence wielded by certain families.

Her dorm mates embodied the 'New Slytherin' creed. Pansy Parkinson was drawn to money and power. Millie Bulstrode, while externally independent, was always careful to ensure she was around those who were the 'right' type – established families in the wizarding world with at least a modicum of influence. They didn't have to be rich, but it didn't hurt. And finally Tracey Davis, who was very driven on raising her station in life – apparently she felt being only a half-blood was holding her back. As a result none of the other girls really fit with her 'Old Slytherin' traits. She tried to get to know each girl and was moderately successful – they were all polite to her – but didn't really feel a close bond to any of them.

At least there was Blaise. He had always been an odd boy in Daphne's mind; almost standoffish and cold in his body language but actually quite witty and relaxed when you got to know him. He took her under his wing a bit, sitting with her in classes and partnering up with her whenever the teachers wanted the students to work in groups. They didn't view the world the same way, but she appreciated his kindness and his observations.

One day at dinner after their first flying lessons, Blaise sat down beside her. This was unusual, as Blaise usually used this time to observe the other houses more than having conversation. "Enjoy the scene on the lawn today, Daphne?" he smirked.

Daphne snorted inelegantly before rolling her eyes. "Draco and Weasley are more alike than they care to admit. Draco was pretty impressive though – I didn't realize he had it in him to fight that well." She furrowed her brow a bit before continuing, "I guess that must be what Pansy sees in him though. She just fawns over that boy." Blaise merely smiled and continued to scan the great hall, observing everyone. Changing the subject, Daphne canted her head and airily asked, "So what do I owe this honor to, Blaise? You don't usually make small talk with me during meals."

Now it was Blaise's turn to cant his head to the side. "Very good, Daphne. You'll become a true Slytherin yet." Growing a bit more serious, he leaned in a bit to Daphne, "I actually wanted to just mention Pansy to you, although you seem to have thought about this as well. She's not bad, just too wrapped up in herself sometimes. I think you could balance her perspective out a bit and, well, I think you could become friends in time. You're a pure-blood and while at home it may not matter, here it does."

Blaise had a point, but Daphne was confused. "What brought this on?"

Turning back to his dinner Blaise took a forkful and chewed slowly before answering. "Daphne, this isn't Lincolnshire. You're a naïve girl in this world and you're either going to get hurt or get corrupted. Hell, if I didn't already know you I would probably be the one doing both," he turned and gave her his best sexy leer – at least the best one an eleven-year old could come up with. Daphne gave him a mock glare and a swat on the shoulder before he continued. "Mum said everyone needs allies in this house and in this school. I can't do that as well as Pansy, Millie, or Tracey can so choose one and try to make it work. If you noticed, both girls in your dorm are latching on to Pansy and you don't want to be alone."

"What about you?" she retorted. "I don't see you getting all chummy with Draco."

"I'm different…" Blaise started slowly. "I know how these games are played and being a wizard I can afford to be a bit more arrogant. Mum doesn't think I need to align with Draco – I just need to be courteous to him."

Daphne's gaze lengthened, staring unfocused across Blaise to the far end of the table. Merlin, she was only 11 and already had to divine how the house was going to evolve and latch on to the right person. Flipping it over in her mind, she decided Blaise was right; she would have to make an effort to be friends with Pansy or one of the other two girls.

She suddenly snapped out of her reverie and stared at the one Slytherin sitting alone. "Blaise, what about Harry Potter?"

It was Blaise's turn to let his gaze go unfocused, mulling over how to respond. "I don't know …" he started slowly. "Right now, I don't think he's friends with anyone. He doesn't really talk to anyone, but that might be for the best … Mum thinks he could be trouble."

* * *

Daphne entered the great hall for breakfast a little later than normal. She had been thinking about Blaise's words a lot over the last couple of days and was having a hard time getting to sleep. She wrote her parents to fill them in on how school was going, but also to see advice on what to do with the 'New Slytherin' priorities. They wrote back immediately, as she received the reply owl yesterday and spent that evening reading their response over and over.

_Hi Princess,_

_I'm so glad to hear you made it to Hogwarts and are enjoying classes so far. It's good to hear that several of my professors are still there and going strong, although I'm surprised Professor Binns is still allowed to teach! No matter how boring it is, history is important. Pay attention and try to do your best._

_I must admit we're not surprised to hear how you describe the Slytherin House – perhaps we should have discussed it more before you left to King's Cross. My time there was difficult as well, as Tom Riddle was causing a lot of commotion at the time. It's one of the reasons your Grandma Cutler insisted your mother stay at home for school. I thought that since the Dark Lord is gone, things would be easier; maybe in some senses but not in terms of the politics._

_In many ways your friend Blaise is right. I am somewhat ashamed to say it, but being a woman in Slytherin can be dangerous. Having Blaise as a friend is a good step, but you will need other women as friends as well. When you come home for the Holidays Mum and I will discuss this in more depth, but please do take his advice._

_We love you and hope you continue to have a good year!_

_Love,_

_Mum and Dad_

She spied Pansy just tucking into her food while casually flipping through her Charms essay before class, making sure everything looked good enough to turn in. "Hi Pansy, may I sit beside you?"

Pansy turned toward her with a haughty look, but softened it upon seeing Daphne. "Oh … okay, I suppose." Not exactly a ringing endorsement, but Daphne was going to take any opening she could. Unfortunately Pansy immediately went back to her food and essay, making Daphne unsure how to break the ice.

At that moment providence came in the form of a muddy, wet, disheveled boy. Harry Potter came in wearing his baggy muggle clothes and plopped himself down on the bench opposite them, a few feet down. Pansy looked utterly horrified by the sight, staring with her mouth open for a good ten seconds before collecting herself.

"Why are you all dirty?" she demanded. Harry, seemingly oblivious that someone would actually talk to him (although Daphne had to admit this was a rather rare occurrence) took a few seconds before snapping his head up to look at Pansy. Seeing the utterly blank look on his face, Pansy rolled her eyes and tried again. "I said, why are you all dirty? Didn't you take a bath this morning?"

The girls thought that maybe he was slow or something before Harry finally seemed to get the gist of the question and take stock of his appearance. It wasn't a pretty sight. "Oh … erm … hi Pansy," he mumbled. Pansy merely rolled her eyes and gave an expectant look back. "Right. I decided to take a walk this morning. You know, around the castle grounds. It's a nice day … and … all …" I had never seen Pansy look so gobsmacked in her life.

"But why did you do that? Couldn't you sleep? And where are your robes? If you get points taken off of our house, Potter, I'll – "

Daphne realized this was her chance to not only help keep the scene quiet – well, as quiet as it could be anyway – but also show Pansy that she could be a clever girl as well. She was quickly cut off Pansy's diatribe mid-sentence and smoothly noted, "Actually, he doesn't have to be in school robes until classes start. But you better watch it, Potter. Filch will have your head if you are tracking mud and water everywhere." She felt a bit ashamed at the heat she put into her rebuke, but that would show Pansy that she was a woman who could take control of a situation.

"Right … thanks …" he mumbled and hastily made his way out of the great hall to, hopefully, get cleaned up.

Pansy, still looking incredulous but now slightly impressed, glanced over to Daphne sitting beside her. "You got him to leave and you kept us from losing points. Thanks Daphne!"

Daphne merely shrugged and went back to her breakfast, but Pansy had now abandoned her Charms essay to focus on the girl beside her. She could tell Daphne was going to have an 'easy beauty' about her – she could look pretty without too much effort. In Pansy's mind that was a drawback, as she would be competition for Draco or any other beau she would set her sights on. However, Pansy also knew she was pretty intelligent based on the practical work she performed in classes. She also seemed to be on good terms with Blaise – a definite asset. True her family had no influence and she was not very rich, but perhaps this was one of those times her Mum told her about: Keep your competition close so you can influence them. Besides, if she and Tracey hit it off Pansy would have a harder time being the Top Witch in the Slytherin dorms – Tracey's drive and Daphne's pragmatism could seriously jeopardize her position. She had decided …

"Say Daphne, would you like to be my partner for Magical Creatures class today?"


	9. Chapter 9 The Troll

**The Sufferer & The Witness**

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**Chapter 9: Troll**

I had a routine – hell, everyone had a routine after a few weeks. I still did my morning walk/exploration, but was careful to keep off of Filch's black list by ensuring my trainers were mud-free. It had taken a few nights of research then practice, but I could now _Scourgify_ with the best of them. I still ate meals pretty much by myself and cycled through the 'last man standing' list for partners in classes. But as I reflected, things weren't so bad here. Sure my life was isolated, but it was also fight-free – which meant it was pain-free. Something I hadn't really experienced before.

Today was a bit of a change in the routine – it was Halloween, which apparently is a big deal in the Wizarding world. The Headmaster said there would be a special banquet so that usually meant a few more food choices and all the denizens of the castle joining in the festivities. After classes I had a bit of time to spare and chose to work on practicing spells before dinner instead of after dinner like I usually do. Professor Flitwick went over _Wingardium Leviosa_ today and I was still trying to get the hang of it. I didn't have a feather but I was using a piece of parchment which seemed like a good substitute.

I finally made some progress and glanced out the window to see that it was now completely dark outside. Damn – I bet I missed the beginning of the feast! I headed down to the Slytherin common room to drop my stuff off, torn between heading to the great hall late (and therefore having to make a very conspicuous entrance) or just bagging the whole thing and staying in the dorm. "_It wouldn't hurt to at least check it out; maybe everyone is so wrapped up in the feast I can slip in_," I reasoned.

After depositing my things I started the journey up to the great hall but stopped suddenly. I heard someone coming – someone very heavy coming. I thought it might be Hagrid, but why would he be down in the dungeons during the feast? Around the corner, I spied the Hagrid-sized creature – but it was definitely not Hagrid. It was ugly, strong, and carried a large club; I knew immediately this was not going to end well for me.

Whatever-it-was spotted me and with a growl swung the club up to a fighting position and began its pursuit. I did what any boy in my position would do – I ran. Unfortunately I wasn't really paying attention to where I was going and soon found myself boxed in. Turning to see the creature closing in, it was all I could do to keep from losing any bodily fluids. Finally my brain re-engaged, "_You're a wizard idiot! Try using your wand!"_ Cursing my stupidity I dug my wand out of my robes and leveled it at the creature. "Petrificus Totalis" I yelled and a beam shot on a true course toward my target…and bounced off its hide, fizzling harmlessly into a wall. Again I tried with the same results – well, that's not entirely true; I did succeed in making it angry.

"Stupid Professor Quirrell with his stupid DADA book," I muttered, feeling totally useless since my offensive arsenal consisted of one ineffective spell. With my wizard skill lacking, I looked for anything else I could do to save my skin. Thankfully there were suits of armor along the walls in this passage, as was the case in many others. I wrenched a broadsword out of its frozen grip and attempted to level it best I could.

The creature looked less than impressed – or possibly vacant, I'm not sure which – and advanced with its club ready to strike. Stepping to the side of the first downward blow, I swung with all my might at the creature's arm. A great roar echoed in the halls indicating I at least had some success. I was hopeful for a split second before the creature's left hand came around and crashed into the side of my head, throwing me into the wall opposite.

Blood dripped into my left eye and down my chin as I stumbled up. Through blurry eyes I could see the creature's right arm was bleeding and it couldn't control the club in its hand. Deciding to forego the club for now, it approached me with renewed anger, intending to use its superior size and strength to finish me off. This time I grabbed the sword with two hands and mentally went through possible outcomes.

Unfortunately this was not an inspiring exercise as I knew I would have to endure a lot more pain even if I survived this. My best thought was to let it grab me, then try and push the sword through the stomach or face. I cringed as the beast grabbed my waist and heard the bones crushing in my side. My arm was pinned, so the sword was pointing down toward my feet. The only option I had was to stab it into the creature's leg and hope for the best. It thankfully pierced the skin and with another howl the creature threw me against the wall again, knocking down another suit of armor. This time my quick health diagnostic check yielded a longer list of ailments – my right arm wouldn't bend, my side felt like it was on fire, I had fresh cuts on my head, and my nose was now pouring blood as well. There wasn't much time left, and I could no longer handle the sword.

As the creature leaned down and grabbed the back of my robes, I picked up a short battle-axe with my left hand from the now-fallen suit of armor. As the beast lifted me off the ground, I swung with all my might and felt the ribs on my right side protest. All became dark.

* * *

Albus thought the Halloween Feast was going swimmingly. He looked forward to this event because all the teachers and students would gather together for really the first time since the Welcoming Feast. Even Hagrid and Professor Trelawney came from their respective outposts for this event.

Unfortunately Albus knew that there is always some crisis that demands the Headmaster's attention; this time it came in the form of Professor Quirrell as he burst through the doors to the great hall and screamed out in a panic-stricken voice, "Troll! Troll in the dungeon!" The headmaster fought to keep from rolling his eyes – this was supposed to be the DADA professor, so a troll should be no problem for him.

After calming down the students and directing the prefects to lead them all back to their respective common rooms, Albus grabbed McGonagall and Snape. "Minerva, can you accompany me to the dungeons to straighten out this troll mess. Severus, can you check the third floor for me? I have a feeling we need to be on alert …" he finished with a pensive look. McGonagall raised her eyebrows and turned toward Snape, seeing a similar response from him.

"As you wish, headmaster." Snape turned and quickly exited the back of the great hall to avoid the students. McGonagall and the headmaster then departed the same way, headed for the dungeons.

* * *

The dungeons were not one of McGonagall's favorite places in the castle. It was dark, cold, and she generally felt a sense of foreboding any time she came down here. Albus decided they should split up, so she was exploring the area farthest from the main passages, behind the Slytherin common room. At the end of the hall before it made a sharp turn, she noticed something shiny on the ground, reflecting the light from her _Lumos_ spell. "_Is that…is that a piece of armor?"_ she questioned to herself. Coming closer it was obvious that's indeed what it was; something had knocked one of the suits over when trying to navigate the narrow, dark corridor. Rounding the corner, she hissed in a sharp breath. Unable to move for an instant, she looked at the destruction before her. Deep red pools of blood slowly seeped into the flagstones on the ground, surrounding two figures. One was clearly the rouge troll, who had a battle axe buried in its neck. The other figure was just a small lump of bloody cloak and black hair. Regaining her senses, she cast a messenger patronus, "Albus! Come quickly!"


	10. Chapter 10 The Plan Goes Astray

**The Sufferer & The Witness**

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**Chapter 10: The Plan Goes Astray**

I woke up – a very, very bad idea. My head pounded, my vision was blurry, and each breath hurt. On the bright side I must still be alive, as I didn't remember my life flashing before my eyes. I'm in no hurry to revisit that …

"Mr. Potter, how are you feeling?" This must be the school nurse given her uniform and the fact she had a wand in one hand and three vials of various colored potions in the other.

"I've been better …" My voice came out as a ragged whisper and I suddenly felt very drained. She carefully put my glasses on so I could see before continuing.

"Yes, I daresay I would agree with that. Mine is a professional assessment of course," she smirked. Apparently that was her allotted one tender moment as the smirk vanished and she began taking out the stoppers on those vials, launching into a discussion on each one as she drained them into my mouth. "To help remedy that I need you to take these three potions. The first one is for your pain … the second one is a blood replenishment … and the third is to help speed the knitting of your bones ..." I nearly wretched all over the bed upon swallowing the third one, "… which unfortunately doesn't taste the best." She reinstalled the stoppers in each vial and got up to leave. "Oh, and I'll be letting the headmaster and Professor Snape know you are awake; they will probably want to talk."

* * *

Albus arrived as quickly as he could after hearing Minerva's message, braced for the worst. Unfortunately it was worse than he imagined. The troll had cornered a student – a young student, who couldn't protect themselves with magic. Somehow the student killed the troll using … _a battle-axe?!? ... _but not before succumbing as well. There hadn't been a death at Hogwarts since the Chamber of Secrets, but now the headmaster would have to contact families and try to manage the board; this was turning out to be a dreadful day indeed.

"Have you checked on the identity of the student yet, Minerva?"

"No Albus," she whispered, emotions even cracking through her short reply.

With a sigh the headmaster started forward, "Very well …" As he approached the lump of bloodied robes, he noticed the dark hair … then noticed the round glasses on the floor a few feet away … something is familiar about the boy … With a gasp the headmaster put it all together – the student was Harry Potter!

It wasn't supposed to be this way. He was supposed to face the Dark Lord, with hopefully enough knowledge to stay alive. Albus had done everything he could to keep the boy away from the wizarding world until he could be under his control – to keep him safe, he had justified. Now, under his watch, in his school, he died by the hands of a mountain troll. _Perhaps there's a way to save him_; it was the only thing the headmaster could cling to. "Fawkes!" he pleaded.

* * *

Harry Potter was alive. Definitely worse for the wear and still unconscious, but alive nonetheless. Albus pondered his actions up to this point, and his plans for the boy in the future. Was this truly the greater good? He stared out the window of his office, unfocused, pondering his plan and his notions of what Harry Potter could do for the wizarding world.

Snape and McGonagall exchanged worried glances. They arrived several minutes earlier for what promised to be a spirited discussion on their weekly topic – one Harry Potter. But so far no words had been spoken; well, at least not out loud. Clearly there were several conversations going on mentally. "Albus?" Minerva quietly prodded.

Shaking out of his haze, the headmaster sharply turned to observe his two colleagues. "Ah yes, pardon an old man's musings. It has been an eventful week, I'm afraid."

"At least the boy is still alive," Minerva said softly, imploring the headmaster to take a seat and relax a bit. Snape made a small disapproving noise though, earning a glare from McGonagall and a suddenly-focused look from the headmaster.

Feeling the need to elaborate, Snape spoke carefully. "He is, and that is … good, I suppose. But look at how he did it. He did not use magic, he used force. He was extremely fortunate he wasn't killed immediately, let alone the magic you and Poppy had to do in order to keep him in this world."

"True, Severus, although we must keep in mind he is a first year. Without the knowledge to inflict any real harm on the troll, and having to face his first magical danger alone and at unfortunate odds, Harry did quite well." Albus was starting to talk himself into his earlier plans. "I think in a more controlled environment we could see what his true magical capabilities are."

McGonagall looked outraged. "Albus, you cannot be serious! He is a boy, not a soldier or a test subject! Prophecy or not, we cannot willingly subject him to dangerous situations just to understand how he responds and what resources he will use. It's against everything we adhere to as educators and authority figures for these children!"

For his part, Snape didn't really care about the higher 'moral code' McGonagall was alluding to. However, there was one comment that seemed to make everything click in place. _"He couldn't have planned … he wouldn't risk … would he?"_

"Headmaster? There are a few things I can't help but wonder ..." Snape felt taking a more subtle approach was for the best, as he knew he was treading on dangerous ground. "I have all these pieces in my mind I'm trying to fit, and I wonder if there is actually a common thread among them. When Quirrell announced the troll had escaped, you asked me to check the third floor to ensure the stone was safe. I felt this was reasonable because of the security put in place to protect it. I recall having conversations about how basic all the safeguards seemed, given the importance of the treasure. Now I hear discussions regarding Potter and a controlled environment to test his capabilities …" He let these pieces of information dangle a bit, knowing that if he released the bludgers, McGonagall would go after them with a bat.

Looking scandalized, she did just that. "Albus! Are you … are you saying …" She was so apoplectic even getting the words out was a challenge. "You planned to have the stone potentially stolen just so you could test Harry's skill? You are intentionally putting students at risk based on how you interpret a prophecy?"

Albus at least had the decency to look abashed, even if he wasn't deterred yet. However, he now had to tread carefully – and figure out a way to get back at Severus for teasing out his plans. "Minerva, I assure you I have the boy's best interests in mind." This statement was met by a slightly raised eyebrow from Severus and a snort of derision from Minerva. "We must see what he can do in difficult situations; it wouldn't do to have his first stressful situation be when he's staring down the Dark Lord. This is as close to a classroom-like setting we can provide to help prepare him for what lies ahead."

Unfortunately for the headmaster's sake, this just incensed McGonagall even further. "Absolutely not! Albus, your machinations are legendary and I know this is the mere starting point for them. You will tell us what you have planned and we will decide together on how to proceed. I know you are trying to do the right thing, but there has to be other methods – more humane methods!"

The headmaster was momentarily shocked by the demands, then steeled his expressions and stood up to tower over the two teachers. _He_ was the headmaster, the Supreme Mugwump, the leader of the Wizengamot, and all that other rot. His plans, while complex, were the right path and these two teachers shouldn't be questioning it. A quick blur flashed through his mind, showing him instances where he was actually wrong, and led innocent people to unfortunate ends. He slumped back down in his chair, barely mustering the energy to give one last pouting glance at his two friends. Swinging around in his chair to look at Fawkes' perch he slowly exhaled. "Perhaps you are right …"

Again Albus stared off into space for quite a while, pondering his next decision. Trust … how much trust should he put in these two colleagues – no, friends – regarding the tangled web of facts, conjecture, and plans that tie the Dark Lord and Harry? Is it really a matter of trust or just security? Is he really trying to do what is right, or what is easy, by keeping these machinations to himself?

With a start, Albus whirled around back to the teachers, momentarily startling them. "Perhaps an unbreakable vow is in order …"

Snape sat in stunned silence. He hadn't heard the whole thing before? "Do you know what this 'power he knows not' is?" he blurted out before he could hold it back.

"I have my suspicions. I believe that power is … love."

Snape stared back incredulously while McGonagall just looked back quizzically, confusion etched on her features. A few beats passed before the silence was broken by Poppy Pomphrey's voice, "Headmaster, he's awake now."


	11. Chapter 11 Rumors

**The Sufferer & The Witness**

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**Chapter 11: Rumors**

After a fairly chaotic 10 minutes, the Slytherins found themselves safely in their common room again. "Alright you lot!" seventh-year prefect O'Bannon shouted above the din. "Everyone back to their dorms and we'll do a quick check to make sure we've got everyone. We'll report back to Professor Snape and see where we go from there. Clear? Good, now let's move!"

The first year students obediently shuffled back to their dorms, feeling safer than they had been since Professor Quirrell told them about the troll. Apparently the feeling of once-again being safe allowed some of the boys' bravado to return. "It's a good thing the troll didn't come after me – I would have easily taken it down!" boasted Draco.

Blaize merely rolled his eyes and Ted, feeling a bit more demonstrative about the claim, piped up, "Yeah right, Draco! I saw you shaking like a leaf, just like the rest of us." Ted didn't mind Draco so much, but he felt the need to keep him in his place when his ego got carried away.

"Whatever …" Draco muttered, but the lack of a more venomous retort told everyone in the room that Ted was spot-on.

"First years! You lot all here?" barked O'Bannon after sticking his head in the door.

The other room occupants looked around briefly before Ted replied. Normally Draco would have taken the lead, but he was still sulking a bit after Ted's comments. "Yeah, we're all here. Wait …"

* * *

Professor Snape stalked into the Slytherin common room, where the students were gathered. Immediately the room went quiet, causing a small smirk to appear on Snape's face at this show of respect. "The troll has been killed, but the Headmaster wants the students to remain in the common rooms for the evening. For those that did not get to finish dinner, food will be arriving shortly. Questions?"

The first year boys looked at each other, then looked at O'Bannon the prefect. He was not looking flustered at all about Potter's disappearance, so they knew if they wanted information, one of them would have to speak up. After a quick discussion using only facial expressions, Draco drew the short straw. He sighed and slowly raised his hand, a resigned look on his face. "Professor?" he called out quietly.

Snape turned and stared at the young Malfoy. He knew what question would be coming, but Snape had to admit he was surprised that anyone seemed to care about Potter's whereabouts – especially Draco. Since all Snape knew of the incident was what McGonagall had told him, he had no idea if Potter was even alive right now. As a result, he would have to answer this question carefully. With a small nod, Snape gave permission to Draco to speak.

"Sir, one of our dorm-mates isn't here."

"Yes, O'Bannon relayed that to me. We have found Potter and are taking … appropriate action …" That statement could imply many things, and probably start a fair amount of rumors. However, it would keep panic at bay and maintain the belief that the teachers were on top of things. After a few seconds of silence while the students tried to decipher the answer their head of house gave, Snape continued. "That is all. Good evening." And with that he twirled on the spot and stalked out of the room, robes billowing behind him.

* * *

Just as Snape thought, the school was soon buzzing about the disappearance of Harry Potter. The rumors ranged from him leaving school to go back to the Muggle world, all the way to him dying at the hands of the Dark Lord during a séance gone awry on Halloween night. Apparently the prevailing thought surrounding this one was that Harry was trying to contact his parents' souls but got the Dark Lord's instead. Needless to say the students felt that mistake would surely result in the loss of your own soul.

Potions was the first class on November 1st, and Hermione was beside herself. She only had two people who she considered friends in the whole school, and even she wasn't sure they were really friends at all. They were nice to her however, and that was a lot more than she was used to. She spent most of her time with Neville, helping him through his studies and trying to bring him out of his shell a bit. Neville was a kind-hearted boy but painfully shy, although he was now comfortable enough with Hermione's near-constant presence that he would occasionally say 'hi' to her first when they met for breakfast.

No, the more she thought about it, the more she could confidently say Neville was a friend. When Ron made fun of her after Charms class yesterday, it was Neville who grabbed her arm to keep her from running away. He whispered into her ear that Ron was wrong and he was happy to call her a friend. She returned his words with a watery-but-beaming smile and a heart-felt thank you. She also hugged him, causing the boy to turn bright red and stand rigid in the middle of the courtyard for a good 30 seconds before he regained motor control.

Her other 'friend' was Harry Potter, although she would be the first to admit that they had spoken maybe three or four times in total since they shared that compartment on the Hogwarts Express. However he was always nice to her and, from what she had observed, never made fun of anyone. He hardly ever talked to anyone either, which made him more shy than Neville in some ways. But when she was able to get him to talk, he was always kind and didn't seem to care that she had frizzy hair, buckteeth, and was a 'know-it-all'. She hoped to corner Professor Snape after class to try and see what the true story behind Harry's disappearance was.

Over at the Slytherin table, Daphne was feeling more comfortable now that she had befriended Pansy. Blaise had been right – Pansy wasn't all bad, but right now was one of those times she felt miles apart from the girl. "It doesn't really matter what happened to Potter," Pansy started, offering her opinion on the rumor of the day. "No one liked him and no one talked to him. I doubt we would have even noticed had Draco not asked Professor Snape."

Daphne had been thinking how cold and heartless Pansy could be when the girl's last statement finally processed in her mind. She realized with a start that she was exactly like the others on this front – if Draco hadn't said anything, how long would it take for her to notice he wasn't around anymore? With thoughts of her newfound coldness weighing on her mind, she slowly trudged to the dungeons for Potions class.

* * *

"How are you feeling, Harry?"

I realized I must have dozed off and hazily gazed at the Headmaster, flanked by professors Snape and McGonagall, and the school nurse. I mentally tried to snap out of it and, seeing that I wasn't sure how long I had been out, did a quick check to try and assess my condition. You know, because it's the Headmaster asking after all … I was still in the hospital bed, my head still pounded, and each breath still hurt. Looks like I could use the same answer I gave the nurse. "I've been better …"

The Headmaster's eyes did this odd twinkling thing and he looked much happier than when I first noticed him. "Glad to hear it, Harry. I know you need your rest, so we won't keep you long. However, we do need to understand what happened."

With that I told the tale best I could. Practicing my Charms work, realizing I was late to the feast, dropping my stuff off in the dorm, then running into the Troll on the way up to the great hall. After that things became a bit hazy and my story suffered accordingly. By the time I was done, there was a wide range of facial features gracing my audience – confusion, pity, frustration, and, oddly, excitement.

"I see …" the Headmaster slowly spoke after a few seconds. For some reason he was the one with excitement on his face. "Well, rest up my boy and listen to Madam Pomfrey's instructions. Once you're feeling better, we'll revisit this incident to discuss further."

After the teachers exited the hospital wing, Snape spoke up. "Well that was useless …"

"Not necessarily, Severus," Albus replied. "He was able to instinctually know how to survive an encounter that he had no business winning. This shows that he has potential for great skills if we can just –"

"Albus!" Minerva cut in. "Stop it! What did we just discuss in your office? You will not use the boy as merely a tool, you will not willingly put him in harmful situations, and you will not go running off by yourself, making Merlin knows what plans about him! We three will continue to discuss and agree on a course of action together before we start influencing the boy's life further. Am I clear?"

Albus merely nodded in resignation, looking properly chastised. Snape visibly took a step back, having been truly afraid for the first time since his days facing the Dark Lord.


	12. Chapter 12 Christmas Goodbyes

**The Sufferer & The Witness**

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**Chapter 12: Christmas Goodbyes**

I was drained. I managed to get out of the hospital wing on the following Friday morning, after spending about a week in bed. Physically I felt okay – a little weak still, but nothing too bad. But what I wasn't prepared for was the number of people asking – no, demanding – that I tell them what happened to me. After the first few people approached, I got into a habit of replying, "Just got sick, that's all." That was mostly true anyway and while I received many suspicious looks, it did get people to go away.

Trying to avoid my Slytherin house mates, I tried to stay out of sight as long as possible that evening. Isolating myself in a particularly out of the way unused classroom, I worked desperately to get caught up in my classes. But as curfew approached, I began trudging toward the Slytherin common room, dreading what sort of greeting I might receive.

As I drew closer, I jolted to a stop. Memories of last week came flooding back, and without realizing it I felt my direction change as I retraced my steps toward the hallway were I confronted the troll. Rounding the last corner, I froze and gazed upon the scene, mentally comparing it with the now-clear replay of the events last week. The hall had been cleaned up pretty well and the suits of armor were once again silent sentries along the walls. But the flagstones displayed two darker patches, lightly stained with the blood I drew from the troll – and spilled myself. Suddenly my legs quivered and gave out and with a loud 'thump' I found myself sitting on the ground, drawing my knees to my chest.

* * *

Voices, and tempers, were rising steadily in the Headmaster's office. "But that doesn't make any sense!" McGonagall shot back at Albus. "You realize how unlikely that chain of events would be for even the most adjusted boy? By keeping him so … oppressed … all this time, there is no possible way he would ever be able to draw those emotions when facing the Dark Lord!"

It was Sunday night and as usual, Albus found himself on the defensive. The group never re-convened after speaking with Harry last week, so this was the first discussion after he administered the unbreakable vows and disclosed the full prophecy. Having an entire week to think about it, McGonagall and Snape came more than prepared for a – spirited – discussion. The first question was innocent enough – Minerva asked if Albus could outline what he knew about the Dark Lord and what he suspected going forward. But then Snape asked how the 'power of love' was supposed to defeat the Dark Lord. Albus proceeded to outline, at a high level, what his thoughts were in preparing young Harry for his eventual defeat of the Dark Lord. The conversation quickly spiraled out of control from there.

Snape had never seen the Deputy Headmistress so at odds with the Headmaster in all his years at Hogwarts – something about the topic of Harry Potter definitely brought out her motherly instincts though. With a barely perceptible shudder at the thought of having Minerva as his mother, Snape quickly switched to evaluating Dumbledore. Here was a man he respected for so long due to the help and protection he provided when Severus was in need. However, he was starting to see that every action Dumbledore took was part of a much larger, complex tapestry of plans. Was he really saved from Azkaban, and possibly The Kiss, due to compassion or something more?

Snapping back to the conversation, Snape realized he must step in or no progress would be made at all tonight. "Perhaps we should back up a bit and discuss … options."

Minerva was mid-rant when Snape cut in and gave him a momentary baleful look. Realizing he was right however, she visibly gathered herself and decided to take the high road. "You're right, Severus. Perhaps we should go over the basics, shall we?"

Pondering a bit, and realizing just how harsh her words had been, she decided to offer an olive branch to Albus. "Let's start with the Dark Lord. We both agree with your assessment that he is not dead and will be looking to regain a physical form, correct?" Turning slightly to Severus, she noticed his quick, curt nod to the affirmative. "Okay. I think we can also agree it makes sense that Harry is the one referenced in the prophecy?"

This time Albus, who had been feeling rather put out by the vehemence of objections from McGonagall, replied. "I'm afraid there can be no other interpretation, Minerva."

Knowing that the speculation on what the 'power he knows not' is would lead to another argument, Minerva decided to avoid this for now. "Yes, I'm certain as well. And you feel Tom Riddle is the Dark Lord in question?"

Albus slowly stroked his beard for a moment before nodding slightly. "I am fairly certain he killed the Potters, so I feel confident in this speculation."

Minerva fought to keep from rolling her eyes at the man's typical murky response. Pushing forward, she continued, "So I think the first item we need to determine is what to do about those two pieces of information. Do we tell others what we fear about the Dark Lord? Do we tell Harry about this?"

Those questions brought thoughtful silence to the room for the first time all evening.

* * *

The days drifted by and soon the students were excitedly talking about the Christmas hols. Finally the last day of classes ended, trunks were packed, and a noisy group gathered in the great hall for breakfast before the students departed for the Express back to London.

Most students, that is. I sat, with my usual student-free zone of at least 5 feet around me, slowly finishing breakfast and thinking. I honestly didn't feel sad or angry or anything about being stuck at Hogwarts for the hols – I felt … nothing. Christmas had never been a good holiday at the Dursleys, as Uncle Vernon and Aunt Petunia seemed more vindictive that time of the year than others. Dudley didn't really care whether I was there or not – he knew the presents under the tree were all for him anyway. As long as I wasn't in his way, I was not a threat to his happiness.

Being at Hogwarts actually meant I could study a bit more and get on top of classes again – something I was struggling with ever since my fight with the troll. With a start I realized that students were not bustling by and exchanging goodbyes - must be about time for everyone to leave. I jumped even more when I heard a timid, "Harry?" from behind me. I whirled around to see Hermione standing there, trunk in hand and her overcoat already on.

All of a sudden Hermione felt bashful. "Well, I know we haven't talked as much as I would have liked this year. But I do think of you as a friend … so … happy Christmas …" With that she extended her hand toward me and held out a muggle envelope.

"_Is she … is she … giving me … a Christmas card?"_ I was momentarily stunned, just staring at the envelope in her hand as if it contained orders for my execution. "Um … thanks Hermione. I … I didn't get anything for you … I'm sorry …" I suddenly felt very ashamed as I gingerly took the envelope from her hand, although why I wasn't entirely sure.

Hermione waived her hand in the air. "Don't be silly, Harry! I mean, I don't think it's exactly wizarding tradition to exchange Christmas cards. Anyway, I promised I would catch a carriage to the station with Neville so I need to go. Have a good holiday!"

Still standing stock-still thinking about the events that just transpired, I received my second shock for the day. "That was … interesting," drawled Blaise Zabini. He apparently witnessed the entire event and for some reason chose this instant to speak to me for the first time all year. "I didn't realize you actually knew anyone in this school, Potter." As he bent down to tie his shoe, he said in a quieter voice, "See you after the hols." Without even looking my way he straightened up and left the great hall.

At that moment I realized I had a lot more to think about than just classes over Christmas.

* * *

Daphne was excited to be heading back home. She liked Hogwarts okay, but she realized how much she missed her parents, her sister, even the animals on the farm. She had found herself in the same compartment as Pansy, Millie, Tracey, Draco, Vince, and Greg. Daphne had dutifully followed Blaise's advice and befriended Pansy. Where Pansy went, the other girls followed. And Pansy usually followed Draco, who always had Vince and Greg close by. Thus she was in her current predicament, squashed between Millie and the door of the compartment.

She sighed and abruptly got up. Conversation ceased immediately and Pansy fixed her with a stare. "Where are you going off to, Daph?" Pansy questioned with a raised eyebrow.

"I just want to stretch my legs a bit; maybe find Blaise and wish him a happy Christmas," she shrugged. Daphne knew Pansy was a bit protective of her group of friends, but also knew Blaise was okay in her book. When Pansy gave a nod and went back to chattering to a somewhat bored-looking Draco, she took that as her 'permission' to leave.

Finding Blaise wasn't that hard – he was only two compartments away, sharing a spot with Ted Nott and two Hufflepuff girls – Hannah Abbott and Susan Bones. She cautiously walked up to the door and caught Blaise's eye. Instead of inviting her in, Blaise got up and went to the door himself. He slipped out and clicked the door shut before heading down to the end of the train car.

"You didn't have to leave your friends," Daphne started before Blaise raised a hand to cut her off.

"It's no problem, Daphne. I just figured you wanted to speak to me alone."

"_How does he do that?"_ Daphne mentally questioned. "Er, right. I don't think I told you, but I wrote my parents after you suggested I get to know Pansy better. They are going to give me a talk about the Slytherin house over the hols and I was wondering if you might have an idea what I should expect." After saying this, Daphne wondered why she hadn't approached Blaise earlier. Maybe it was because she was feeling a bit claustrophobic in that compartment?

Blaise schooled his features to that haughty mask she was so used to seeing. He observed her critically for a bit before speaking. "Why are you worried about it? Your parents are nice people; I'm sure they'll tell you what to do."

Now it was Daphne's turn to observe Blaise critically. "But you said all those things earlier this year. It's like you know what I should do …"

"No, I was just telling you what my Mum told me. She likes you and wanted to give you advice, since your Mum didn't go to Hogwarts."

"So … do you believe everything she said?" Daphne felt a bit uneasy about this conversation, since she didn't want to imply Blaise's Mum couldn't be trusted. She was surprised when Blaise furrowed his brow and glanced out the window for a bit, lost in thought.

"I…I don't know, Daphne. She's my Mum, and I always listen to her. But sometimes I don't see it. She says I should be friends with Draco – how it will help us in the future. I mean…Draco's okay I guess. I just don't see what's so important about being his friend.

"It's the same with you and Pansy. She's nice enough I guess, but Mum was certain you should become her friend." As if realizing he might have said too much, he looked back at Daphne and returned to his disinterested look usually worn at school. "You should discuss this with your parents. They'll help."

As Blaise made his way back to the compartment, Daphne was more confused than ever.


	13. Chapter 13 So You Want to be an Adult

**The Sufferer & The Witness**

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**Chapter 13: So you Want to be an Adult?**

"Can you explain why this mirror will stop the Dark Lord?" Snape had been helping the Headmaster the past several days revamp the protections guarding the Sorcerer's Stone and was now levitating the Mirror of Erised down the trap door. Hagrid had taken Fluffy for a 'walk', allowing the professor to enter and exit easily.

"Ah, Severus, this is one of my more ingenious ideas," Albus replied with an almost giddy quality in his voice. "You see, the mirror shows you what your heart truly desires. However in this context, the only way to retrieve the stone will be if you don't truly want it. A paradox to anyone with ill intent when seeking the stone, you see?"

Snape had to hand it to the old man – that was pretty ingenious. As they continued in silence, his mind quickly wandered to the mirror itself. Snape realized he had an almost morbid curiosity to look in the mirror and see what his 'heart truly desired'. Having seen far too many unhappy memories in his life, many of them his own doing, what would the mirror show him?

"Headmaster, weren't you concerned about having this mirror accessible to the students? It seems like a powerful … temptation."

Albus canted his head towards the potions master. He felt he probably knew Severus better than anyone, but that really didn't mean much. Snape was a private man, a guarded man. Albus almost wanted to offer the mirror to him just to see his reaction. After a sigh and a subtle shake to clear his head, he replied, "Yes, you are correct. It can ruin men much stronger than you or I. Having it in the castle unattended is indeed risky. Down here it will be safe from students and staff while also protecting Flamel's treasure."

Snape kept his expression blank. _"Why did that feel so very disappointing?"_ he mentally pondered while replying, "I understand, Headmaster. I would like to finish this task so that I may return to my lab."

Dumbledore studied the man before him, briefly wishing he wasn't such a good occlumens. "I understand. You can set the mirror down here and go; I have to enchant the stone and mirror before I go but should be back to the great hall in time for dinner. Thank you, Severus."

* * *

Neville was feeling embarrassed. He shared a compartment with Hermione on the Express back to King's Cross and they had a pleasant conversation. At first he didn't know what to think of the somewhat high-strung muggle-born witch. She always was trying to help him though – something he was grateful for. Classes were hard – well, except for Herbology – and she seemed to get it all so well. He helped her get her trunk down to the platform and was just about to wish her a Happy Christmas when she grabbed his arm and dragged him over to two people standing back a bit from the rest of the crowd. Her parents.

"Hi Mum! Hi Dad!" Hermione enthusiastically greeted her parents and began her introduction. "This is Neville Longbottom, my best friend at school."

_"Best friend? Really?"_ He never had a close friend before and honestly wasn't sure what his relationship with Hermione was. Study partner – definitely. Friend – sure. But best friend. He thought for a bit and realized he really didn't talk to anyone else at school that much. Ron Weasley was kind of immature, even for an 11 year old. Seamus and Dean were nice fellows, but they were a bit too cool to hang out much with him even though they were polite.

After a few seconds passed, while Hermione's parents exchanged quizzical looks to first each other then Neville, he gathered his wits and offered his hand. "Er … sir, ma'am, it's nice to meet you." A few yards away Augusta Longbottom quirked her eyebrow at the events unfolding in front of her.

* * *

"Okay princess, tell us all about Hogwarts." A couple days had passed since Daphne made it home, and this evening her parents settled in (after Astoria had been sent to bed) with their oldest daughter to have the promised talk. After about 30 minutes spent catching up her parents on the year so far, Daphne settled back against the comfortable, but worn, chair beside the fire and waited.

"Hmm …" her father started, also leaning back in his chair and rubbing his chin absently. "When I was at Hogwarts, Tom Riddle was becoming a dangerous wizard and Slytherin was split between those who were siding with him and those who wanted to remain neutral. I had the pressure of those trying to recruit me, but honestly they were a minority. There was a large enough group who were staying neutral that we stuck together and couldn't really be roughed up too much. While it was definitely tense and political, there was only one issue we had to worry about. I'm afraid what you've described is quite different as everyone is trying to make their own mark based on their parents' influence."

"So you don't think it's important I listen to them?" Daphne furrowed her brow, trying to understand what all this meant and still thinking about Blaise's words on the train.

Her mother joined in to try and help. "I think what your father is trying to say is that ultimately you're kids. I know you've grown up and we're very proud of the young lady you've become, but at this stage in your life I like to think we're still the biggest influence in your life." Her mother paused to see if Daphne concurred, and her daughter nodded her agreement. "Right. I think a lot of the other kids are that way as well – your friend Blaise even said so. I think you are seeing the parents' wishes and beliefs said by your classmates, and it's confusing to determine if they have thought about it or are just doing what they are told."

"Sorry, I'm confused," Daphne said almost apologetically. She could see what her parents were saying but couldn't understand what that meant and what she should do.

"Daphne …" her father started before scrubbing a hand over his face and looking toward his wife with an apprehensive look. She forced a small smile of encouragement so he continued. "We raised you to be respectful, hard working, and pragmatic about the world and how to operate in it. As your mother said, we're very proud of you and the choices you have made up to this point. However, we know that being at Hogwarts means we won't be there to help you as much and you'll slowly start forming your own opinions – ones that will stay with you for the rest of your life." He paused and Daphne was startled to see her father's eyes glisten with emotion.

"Many of your classmates come from wealthier families that depend on political power and persuasion to achieve their goals. With you being gone at school and seeing this side of the world, you'll have to make a choice at some point as to what values you will embrace. Unfortunately, that also means you may have to make hard choices about who your friends are – whether they embrace the same things in life and whether you are proud or ashamed to be their friend. Look at how they treat and speak about others, and think about whether you would like to be on the receiving end of their words and actions. Politics and persuasion aren't bad and you'll find that many of your classmates who excel in these areas are some of the nicest people you know.

"But you will have to choose, and Slytherin tends to have a wider spectrum of opinions than the other houses. Talk, really talk, to your housemates and try to understand where they are. Many of them will be parroting their parents beliefs and that's fine; it's those opinions they truly believe you need to pay attention to."

Daphne could hear the sincerity in her father's voice and realized this is what it felt like to become an adult. She obviously had a long, long way to go to get there, but this was certainly the first step. A sudden thought came to her, "Daddy, what if I find I don't like anyone in Slytherin?"

"You have friends in other houses, don't you?" her mother questioned.

"Well, yeah I guess so." She realized that she had a few girls she was friendly with, but by and large she had focused so much of her energies on trying to make friends in her own house she hadn't spent much time talking with the other houses.

"Good – you should be looking to meet everyone and not just focus on Slytherin. I had several friends in the other houses and while I got a bit of good natured ribbing about it, no one was really mean about it." Her father thought a bit before continuing, "Well, no one who I cared to be friends with anyway."

This brought up another question Daphne had. "I have heard other students talk about blood – pureblood, half-blood, and mudblood-"

"Daphne!" her mother chastised. "Don't use that word!"

Daphne looked momentarily abashed. "Sorry! It's what some of the students at school say. 'Muggle-borns', right?"

Her parents exchanged agitated, significant looks. "Yes, dear. This is what we were talking about. Think about how it would feel to be a muggle-born and be called that name instead. How would you feel?"

Daphne thought through all the times she had heard that word used. Most of the time it was Draco and occasionally Pansy, and they used it when talking about other students behind their back. She hadn't seen what the reaction would be, but realized it was said with spite – that couldn't be a good word then. She looked abashed, and her parents noted this with a small sense of satisfaction.

"It doesn't matter what a person's heritage is, Daphne. It matters what the person's actions are. Focus on that, and you'll find good people without having to put other labels on them."

This all made sense to Daphne. Finding out what people believe in would be hard and she needed to start with herself. Was she just repeating what her parents taught her or did she really want to be that way? How was she supposed to know? She mimicked her Dad's earlier motion of scrubbing her face in frustration and tiredness.

Seeing this sign from their daughter, her Mum gently prodded, "Princess, it's getting late and you should go to bed. Think about this some more and ask us if you have any questions – any questions at all, okay?"

"Okay Mum and Dad. Good night." And with that Daphne gave her parents a hug and trudged slowly to her bedroom.

"Wait!" her mother nearly shouted. "I'll tuck you in."

After getting into her nightdress and performing a cleaning spell on her teeth, she got under the covers her Mum held up for her. "I wanted to show you something," her mother began. She took out her wand and pointed at the hangings around her bed, drawing them closed. She then continued, "You remember how we wrote that you should find someone to become friends with in your dorm room? Well, if you're concerned about any of them being mean to you I want you to be careful. Here's something I did when I was your age to keep my sisters from bugging me."

With that she cast a spell at the now-closed hangings to keep them closed and a second spell to sound an alarm if someone touches them. After going over the wand movements and incantation a few times, Daphne got the charms to work properly.

"I just want to make sure you're safe, no matter what the situation." And with tears forming in her eyes, her mother leaned down to kiss her on the cheek. "I love you, princess. Sleep well."

Daphne pondered the new spells and why she might need to use them. After pondering all the events of the day she could only find one thing she knew absolutely for certain: Becoming an adult is confusing.


	14. Chapter 14 A Deadlier Trap

**The Sufferer & The Witness**

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**Chapter 14: A Deadlier Trap**

Slowly the carriages made their way through the snowy track – students were once again back at Hogwarts. I surveyed the scene from the Astronomy tower, where I could see but not be seen, as the students threw snow, shouted greetings, and generally enjoyed the last vestiges of freedom before classes resumed.

I felt settled for the first time in a while; I was caught up (finally!) with my homework and had spent several hours each day practicing the spells and wand movements so that I could be proficient at the practical side of magic. I was a good student, but I knew enough to admit it was through a lot of hard work rather than natural genius. Now Hermione – there was a genius…

Realizing the carriages were no longer coming to the castle, I reluctantly turned and headed down to the great hall for dinner. Instead of the quiet meals of the past few weeks, it was back to a full school. Well, save for my little zone of empty seats around me.

* * *

As the first few weeks of school passed, the Headmaster felt pretty good about how smoothly things were progressing. Just as in all years, the student ranks were diminished as many first-years chose not to come back to Hogwarts after the hols. While it happened every year, Dumbledore still couldn't help but feel saddened that many felt the coursework was too grueling and the lifestyle too different to continue on. Maybe this summer he'll think about how to address that issue.

But for now, there was something that needed his immediate attention. Professor Quirrell had become more and more agitated since his trip away from the castle over the hols. While always an odd man, something was off – more off than usual – with him this year. "Severus, I'm afraid I must burden you with something."

Snape raised his eyebrow at the Headmaster, realizing his speculation regarding why he had been called was going to end. "Professor Quirrell … something is not right with the man. I would like you to follow him when you can – to try and ascertain what's troubling him."

"Yes, Headmaster," Snape began. He realized this was a golden opportunity to perhaps achieve two goals. He could not only show his value to Dumbledore but also perhaps remove a roadblock to the DADA post – his DADA post. "His behavior has indeed been … troubling. I'll start tonight and let you know what I find."

* * *

Steeling her nerves, Daphne looked over at the common room table tucked behind some shelves and against an alcove. This was her table and all of Slytherin knew it. She slowly approached as Pansy was scribbling out the final few thoughts of her homework – astronomy by the looks of it – before probably turning in for the night. It was getting late but Daphne forced herself to stay up until Tracey and Millie headed for bed; she wanted to talk to Pansy alone.

"Hi Pansy, how is your essay coming?" Daphne said in a, hopefully, nonchalant way. Looking up with a frown etched on her face, the brown-haired girl gave a small grunt of dissatisfaction and sat back in her chair.

"Well, horrid to be honest. I spent most of the evening with Draco, so I'm behind on this." She then looked curiously at the girl across from her, "You wouldn't mind if I copied off of yours, would you?"

Daphne looked back, nonplussed. _"Was this already a sign of Pansy's true character?"_ she wondered. She had been struggling to act on her parents advice, somewhat confused as to how to go about it. Tonight she figured it was time to at least try; what better person to start with than Pansy?

"You already have quite a few inches written, so why don't I read through it and help you from there?" This seemed like a reasonable compromise for Daphne's comfort and seemed to work for Pansy as well, since she took just a minute to ponder it over and agreed. Scanning through the essay and making quick suggestions here and there, Pansy now had something that she seemed content with and began gathering her things to head back to the dorm.

"Can I ask you a question, Pansy? What do you…do you really think of Draco?" Daphne saw her moment slipping away and, without any better way to introduce the topic, took the first thing that popped in her head.

Pansy stopped midway through putting her quills into a bag and coldly stared at the raven-haired girl across from her. She started thinking about her crush on Draco and realized this girl could be competition. "Well, I obviously think he's wonderful, given we're as close as we are." It was a slight embellishment, but in her mind necessary to keep her interest at bay.

Daphne's eyes widened at the transformed girl in front of her. _"Ew! That's not what I meant! How do I fix this!?!"_ "Oh, no! I don't mean it like that! Not that he isn't a nice boy I'm sure…" she trailed off, realizing this could go from bad to worse quickly.

Thankfully Pansy took no offense and relaxed visibly. Her brown eyes warmed and a self-conscious smile started. "Sorry – I misunderstood what you were asking. What do you want to know about him?"

Breathing a sigh of relief, Daphne pondered how to steer the conversation without further offending Pansy. "Well, I know he's proud of his family and seems to adore his father. But why does he give Longbottom such a hard time?" She thought this might be safe – Neville was admittedly an easy target to tease.

Pansy could barely keep back her mirth. "Because he's pathetic – surely you see that? If he didn't have that Granger girl helping him I'm sure he would flunk out of Hogwarts, no matter how important his family is. Draco is funny; he's just making fun of him, that's all.

"Now that Granger girl is another matter. She's so annoying and isn't the prettiest thing in the world."

Daphne fought hard to keep from rolling her eyes. _"You're not exactly a looker yourself, Pansy." _

"And besides, she's just a mudbl … muggle-born" Pansy continued, realizing that maybe 'mudblood' would offend Daphne. _"She really is a sheltered girl."_

Daphne knew where Pansy was headed with the comment and realized just hearing the word now made her feel angry. Something was definitely changing in her since the conversation over the hols. "So why is that bad? I mean, why does that affect how Draco thinks about her?"

Pansy was a smart girl and could see Daphne's reaction. She honestly hadn't thought about it though; Draco didn't like mudbloods and Pansy hadn't really known any before Hogwarts. _"But Draco and the Malfoys are usually right about these type of things … right?"_

Not entirely sure how to answer, Pansy gave a shrug. "Maybe you should ask Draco."

"Okay. So what do you think about it?"

Now she was on the spot. It was a good question, just not something she really had time to think about. Especially when it was late and she was tired. "Look, I don't know Daphne. She's annoying and I don't like her. I don't think it's because she's muggle-born; I mean, I like Tracey just fine and she's a half-blood."

That logic didn't really seem to make sense to Daphne, but she knew Pansy was done with the conversation.

"I'm pretty beat, so I'm going to bed. If you want to talk to Draco about this just let me know. Goodnight, Daphne."

"Yeah, goodnight Pansy. Thanks – I might take you up on that." Daphne stayed seated for several more minutes, thinking through the conversation. It didn't seem like Pansy really had opinions yet, but she was quick to judge. She shuddered a bit at the thought of getting on that girl's bad side.

* * *

Quirrell slipped by the three-headed dog and down the trapdoor. Good thing Hagrid had loose lips when he got a few pints – well, more like quarts for him – in his system. He knew Dumbledore had changed the protections around the stone, but just getting by that stinking dog-thing was proving challenging enough. But in a moment of epiphany - okay, upon consulting the Dark Lord - he realized he should befriend the one man that probably brought that fleabag into the school in the first place: Hagrid. The good news is the plan worked brilliantly as they stayed up in the Three Broomsticks until the wee hours of the morning. The unfortunate side effect was Quirrell felt positively dreadful even 24 hours after the drinking and gambling binge. But with encouragement from the Dark Lord he pressed forward to scout out the next layer of protection.

Below the trap door stood a legion of stone gargoyles, all resting on their haunches with flat eyes staring straight ahead. Each gargoyle had two scythes – one in each hand – and sat on a field of what looked like grass. Separating the field of gargoyles and Quirrell was a hazy, blue curtain with a writing charm on it:

_To those that pass behind the veil your true desires will be known!_

_Those who seek for noble goals will see that their magic has grown._

_But those that look for selfish means will be bound by weakness and fear._

_So tread carefully all who pass, for danger will be certain and death will be near._

After reading through the warning quickly, Quirrell slowly rubbed his chin. "What do you think, Master?"

The wheezing, high voice of the Dark Lord filled his mind. "It appears Dumbledore has a few new tricks in place. We may need a few … test subjects … to fully understand what charms are contained in the veil and how to cross the field. Return to your quarters and we'll begin our study and recruitment."

Quirrell carefully climbed out of the trapdoor and collected the enchanted harp, allowing it to stop playing just as he closed the door. Shrinking the harp down in order to be less conspicuous, Quirrell put it in his pocket and quickly walked down the corridor to the professors' quarters.

In the shadows, the disillusioned figure of Snape also emerged. Unlike Quirrell, he headed toward the Headmaster's office.


	15. Chapter 15 Through the Veil

**The Sufferer & The Witness**

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**Chapter 15: Through the Veil**

The school year was winding down, _"Thank God" _I thought. Tests were next week and I once again found myself in a distant, unused classroom trying to get the hang of the last few spells teachers tried to cram into our brains. I sat down with a thump, slightly sweaty and out of breath due to the repeated attempts at _'Accio'_-ing a book from across the room.

My mind drifted off to ponder what would happen this summer. I would be back at the Dursleys and I'm sure I will get a beating for my cousin's pig tail, courtesy of Hagrid. They didn't explode too harshly after the incident – no doubt worried about what Hagrid would do to them if he caught wind of their actions. But this summer I wouldn't have his considerable girth as protection. I wished I could stay at Hogwarts rather than go back there…

"_Although, what would I do at Hogwarts_?" I wondered. I doubted the teachers stayed year-round and obviously there wouldn't be classes to take up my time. I suppose I could work or something; maybe they would go for that.

* * *

Blaise smirked when he saw Daphne approaching his table in the library out of the corner of his eye. Quickly rearranging his face to his usual disinterested haughtiness, he remained bent low over his essay. "So … is it my turn now?" Blaise commented when she drew near.

"You startled me, you prat!" Daphne hissed. She quirked up a corner of her mouth when Blaise looked up at her to show the venom in her voice was an act and plopped down in the chair across from him. "So you were expecting me?"

This time Blaise kept his smirk, "Of course. I've seen you go around to the others and even heard a bit about it from Draco. You threw him for a loop, you know."

Daphne had the decency to at least blush. "Well, that's kind of the point, yeah?" Becoming more serious, she continued, "He parrots everything his dad says. 'Father says' this and 'my Father thinks' that – it's fairly annoying actually."

"I told you on the Express that I wasn't too sure about him," Blaise reminded her. Getting down to business, he put down his quill and stared into her face. "So what is this about, anyway?"

Daphne sighed and flipped her hair before beginning. "We haven't talked in a while, have we?"

"I don't think you've talked to a lot of people in a while, Daphne. Well, except these types of conversations at least." Blaise did think of Daphne as a friend, despite the long periods between discussions. They still worked together in many classes but there usually wasn't much time to chat.

"I know," she said, defeated. "The conversation my parents gave me is really affecting me, I guess. I assume the others have noticed this as well?"

Blaise couldn't help but chuckle. "Well, some of them have. From what I gather the girls think you've become … I don't know … cold, I guess. The other guys haven't really noticed, apart from Draco. He thinks you're getting 'dangerous ideas'," he waived his hands around in a spooky fashion upon saying this. "I think he's worried you'll start hanging out with Granger or something."

Daphne smiled a bit, but her face soon fell into contemplation. Blaise, having worried he might have made her upset, tried to backtrack a bit. "Hey, I'm just kidding …"

"No, you're right," she said without looking up. "I've learned a lot I guess, but I just don't know what to do with it all."

"So what have you learned? What did you want to talk to me about?" Blaise was trying to be encouraging, but discussions with emotional girls were unchartered waters for him.

She couldn't help but smirk at the usually-unflappable Blaise squirming a bit in his chair. "I really don't have much to ask you; I think I know you pretty well as it is."

"Well, I think you hold too high of an opinion of me," he cut in, looking a bit abashed.

Canting her head and furrowing her brow, Daphne studied the guilty look from her friend. "Why do you say that?"

"Well, I know you'll ask what I think of muggle-borns and such. They're okay; I don't see any reason to believe pure-bloods are better than anyone else. I hang out with mostly people from other houses and honestly I don't really care for Draco, even though I still try and be on decent terms with him."

"That all sounds about what I figured. What's the problem?"

Blaise sighed and sat back in his chair, looking away from Daphne. "Potter," he replied simply.

A few seconds passed. "I don't get it."

"My problem is Harry Potter. Why does everyone avoid him?"

This was not what Daphne expected when she walked over to discuss her problems with Blaise. "I don't know. I didn't do anything to him!" she hissed back defensively.

Blaise's eyes widened at her sudden mood change before raising his hands in a placating manner. "No! That's not what I meant! I mean … have you ever really talked to him? Did you ask him these questions like you did with the others?"

A sudden sadness filled her eyes, realizing where Blaise was headed. Hanging her head, she whispered, "No. I don't think I've said more than a few words to him all year."

"I don't think anyone has. That's what bothers me. He seems … nice, I guess. I haven't seen him say anything bad about anyone, even though all the students avoid him like the plague. The only ones I've ever seen him talk to are Longbottom and Granger." Blaise looked a bit frustrated and agitated now, fidgeting in his seat before sitting up and drawing close to Daphne over the table. "I've thought along with everyone else that Longbottom was a Squib and Granger was annoying, but Potter treats them better than anyone treats him. Why?"

Blaise looked truly conflicted about this, and now Daphne realized she was just like Blaise had been. Despite her tough questions amongst the Slytherins, she didn't even think to talk to Harry. Hell, she even managed to hold conversations with Vince and Greg, putting enough effort into it to speak to them separately. Why did she just discount Harry like that?

Sensing no answer was coming, Blaise leaned back a bit to give Daphne her 'personal space' again. "Sorry, it's something I need to figure out I guess. I shouldn't throw that to you; there's enough going on in your mind as it is."

That was something she could agree with.

* * *

"Minerva, Severus. How do you think Harry will do on his exams?" Progress in their weekly discussions had been agonizingly slow. The two central issues still remained: What was the 'Power he knows not', and what to tell Harry. The first question had been discarded as a bad job some time ago. There simply wasn't any evidence to figure this out so the professors had taken to keeping a running list of ideas. The second issue had only two possible outcomes though; tell him now or tell him later. Snape was firmly in the 'tell him now' camp but the Headmaster was in the 'tell him later' mode. McGonagall was on the fence, as she wanted to tell him but … then what? _"Harry, you have a Dark Lord after you. We don't know where he is, whether he is just a spirit or has a body, and we don't know how you can defeat him … but we think you can."_ What kind of conversation would that be?

As a result, the weekly meetings devolved back to their original purpose – a status update. "Albus, I think he's doing quite well. I expect he'll achieve an 'Exceeds' in Transfiguration and possibly even an 'Outstanding' if he can really apply himself on the practical. I talked with Flitwick and he has a similar feeling regarding his Charms work."

"Excellent!" The Headmaster was really hoping Harry's magical ability would start blossoming – there would be a better chance he would live to face the Dark Lord in the future; when he was better prepared.

"As for Potions," Snape began, "I think he has a chance to scrape an 'Exceeds'. Professor Sprout feels the same about Herbology. The rest of the teachers feel he'll earn somewhere between 'Acceptable' and 'Exceeds'."

"Is he still practicing spells on the fourth floor?"

"Yes, Headmaster. He spends most of his free time after dinner there." Snape still didn't like the boy, but he had to admit Potter worked hard and was polite – two traits he must have gotten from Lily.

"Good, good. So summer is drawing closer and, except for the unfortunate Troll incident, he has been safe. He should be in good health when he gets back to the Dursleys."

Something about this arrangement bothered McGonagall, but she couldn't really put a finger on it. The boy looked scrawny and poorly clothed, sure. But he also looked … scared … somehow. She made a mental note to observe what really happens in that house over the summer.

"Minerva, I'll let you get back to your duties. Severus, a word if I may?" McGonagall took this as her leave and closed the door behind her. "What of Quirrell, Severus?"

"He definitely is after the stone and he knows how to get past Hagrid's … pet," Snape sneered in disgust. "However, based on the books I've seen him take from the library and purchase in Knockturn Alley, he has yet to understand the veil." Snape paused a bit, mentally warring with himself as to whether he should ask. "Sir, don't you feel we have enough … probable cause … to put a stop to him now?"

Albus sat back and stroked his beard thoughtfully. "Possibly, Severus. However, he hasn't revealed the motivations for why he's going after the stone. If we could understand what, or who, is prompting these efforts, I would stop him immediately."

Snape couldn't help but clench his jaw at the Headmaster's ongoing machinations. To keep from lashing out, he gave a curt nod and swiftly left the office. _"Someone is going to be killed before he stops this foolishness! It better not be me!"_

* * *

Three stunning spells, three 'volunteers'. Quirrell levitated the students to an alcove on the third floor and bound them before going over the plan with the Dark Lord. "Cast the _Imperio_ over the three. The first two should be used to test the veil – one with the desire to gain immortality from the stone, and the second to seek it for noble means. Save the third for now – just have them follow along."

Quirrell began to be suspicious of Snape several weeks ago and decided to go after the stone while he was giving his last examination. Since it was his 6th year NEWT class, the test period was three hours and would hopefully provide enough time to at least unlock the mystery of the veil and the gargoyles. When the time came, he hid in a second-floor corridor near the main staircase, picking three students who were alone. He felt pretty good – his catch had been a 4th year Hufflepuff Jamie Morgan, 7th year Slytherin Terrence Higgs, and a 5th year Gryffindor Oliver Wood.

I was done! I don't think the tests went too badly, and decided to celebrate by wandering the castle a bit before maybe heading outside – the weather was sort of cooperating by not pouring down buckets right now. I found myself on the third floor and stopped abruptly. In front of me Quirrell was levitating three bound students through a door – the door to the forbidden corridor Headmaster Dumbledore mentioned. Curiosity got the better of me and I found myself just staring at the proceedings without any intention of hiding.

Quirrell glanced over and noticed with a start a runty little boy – Potter – staring back at him. Briefly going through his options he decided the easiest one would be - stunning him just like the rest. The beam struck the startled first year with some force, knocking him onto the flagstones. After binding him up, Quirrell levitated him through the doorway as well. _"He's just a spare,"_ he reasoned_. "If I don't need him I can always kill him later."_

After opening the trap door and getting everyone down, Quirrell found himself face to face with the veil. _"Morgan, you want the stone to be immortal."_ The mental projection worked and Morgan dutifully repeated his newfound obsession in life to the professor. "In order to get the stone, you have to pass through the veil. Take out your wand and be prepared."

With wand in hand, Morgan stepped through the veil. As soon as it closed behind him, the grass field turned to snakes and the gargoyles became enchanted, drawing their scythes to attack. Morgan fell to his knees and began screaming, dropping his wand and clawing at his eyes and ears. "Make them stop! Make them stop!"

Quirrell was frozen in fear as the boy tore into his flesh and blood began pouring out of his new wounds. It wasn't the snakes or gargoyles that he wanted to stop – it was something else, like a nightmare. In fact, Morgan had all but ignored the snakes and gargoyles, which now advanced to finish him off. The snakes struck at his legs and chest, causing his body to convulse as each dose of poison weakened him further. Finally a gargoyle advanced and crossed the scythes below the boy's chin. With an outward tug and a grunt, the scythes tore through his neck and what was left of his body fell in a heap. The snakes then turned to fire, consuming all traces of the boy.

When the flames and smoke cleared, the field was once again green grass and the gargoyles stationary. Quirrell quickly established the connection to the Dark Lord and went over all he saw.

"It is as we expected," a voice rasped out. "The veil causes hysteria and triggers the enchantments on the gargoyles and transfigures the grass to snakes. The fire is an interesting twist however …"

"Send the next one." Quirrell dutifully programmed Wood – _"You seek the stone for noble reasons. You do not want it for your own glory!"_ After he repeated his goals, the professor once again ordered, "Take out your wand and pass through the veil."

This time the student did not fall to his knees screaming. Instead, a burst of white light filtered through the veil and surrounded Wood in a glow. Suddenly the boy's wand erupted in spells, freezing the snakes and breaking apart the gargoyles. He clearly had more strength and knowledge than a 5th year was supposed to have – whatever spell the white light contained made him a much better warrior.

While a majority of the snakes had been eliminated, the gargoyles were slowly battling back. Woods robes were in tatters, blood flowing freely from several wounds where the scythes hit their targets. Finally a gargoyle caught Wood's wand hand with an upward strike of the scythe, severing it off at the wrist. Now defenseless, the Gryffindor soon met the same fate as Morgan earlier and his body also vanished in a storm of fire.

Quirrell groaned in frustration as, when the fire and smoke cleared, the field reset to its original condition; with all the grass and gargoyles looking perfect. "Master!" he whined. "The second boy is no more and the field has reset."

"Silence!" the Dark Lord hissed. "I expected as much. Send in the 7th year – the same instructions as the last boy."

Again Quirrell 'programmed' the boy and again the boy passed through the veil and received his power boost of white light. Being a fairly skilled seventh year, this boy made more progress, eliminating all the snakes after 20 minutes and down to five gargoyles. He too sustained several injuries, including a deep wound that spilled dark blood from his right kidney. Quirrell knew that wound would prove fatal; he only hoped he had enough strength to defeat the final gargoyles.

With one final _'Confringo'_ spell, the final gargoyle crumbled and Higgs sank to his knees. The veil lifted and the floor become normal flagstones, signaling the task was complete. At the far end of the room stood a door – presumably to another chamber.

As Quirrell levitated the Potter boy across the flagstones to the door, the professor stopped and 'set' Harry on the ground. He then casually flicked his wand at Higgs to remove the _'Imperio'_. He was laying on the floor in a growing pool of blood, his breath becoming more ragged and his limbs trembling.

"What … what … happened to me?" the student mumbled. Quirrell stopped and squatted down to look Higgs in the eye. With dark, gleeful eyes the professor smiled. "The Dark Lord thanks you for your service. As a result, you will get your compensation – a quick death. _Avada Kedavra_!"

With a small nod of satisfaction, Quirrell stood up and headed through the door to find – a mirror. Nothing else, just a mirror. Cautiously approaching it, he saw his reflection with the stone in hand and the Dark Lord standing beside him. He could see the acceptance, almost trust, in the Dark Lord's eyes toward him for a job well done.

"I … I don't get it …" Quirrell slowly remarked. He opened his connection to the Dark Lord and explained what he saw.

After pondering what Quirrell saw, the Dark Lord responded. "It must be some sort of portal for the stone. Perhaps it has a similar effect as the veil…"

"Sir, I have another student who I had to capture. He's only a first year, but maybe we should try him?"

"Yes … I think so…" With that permission, Quirrell again 'programmed' the boy to feel the right way about the stone and told him to look in the mirror.

"What do you see?" he asked.

"I see myself, I'm older. There's a green field and some trees in the distance. It's a peaceful, sunny day …"

After a long pause Quirrell snapped, "What else? What else do you see? Do you see a stone?"

"No," came the almost bored reply.

Stumped, Quirrell looked back and forth between the mirror and the boy. Again he consulted the Dark Lord and they pondered this latest development together. "Maybe release the _'Imperio'_. Perhaps it has to be an unaltered mind for the portal to work."

I shook my head, feeling very groggy for some reason. I looked around and patted my robes, desperately trying to find my wand. "Looking for this?" Quirrell questioned, holding up my wand in his left hand before depositing it back into his robes.

"Wh-what are you do-doing, P-professor?" I stammered out.

"The Dark Lord needs the stone in order to rise again. I'm helping him acquire it; and now you're helping also."

"Isn't the Dark Lord dead?"

Quirrell replied, "No, his spirit is alive but he does not have a body. The stone will restore his body and you will get it for him. Look in the mirror! What do you see?"

I was almost afraid to look, even though it was just a mirror. There were so many weird things about the wizarding world, I'm certain this is another one of them. Stalling, I decided to continue talking to the professor. "Sir, I thought I supposedly killed him when I was a baby. I kind of figured that was a stupid story, but how come … how come he couldn't kill me?"

The professor looked almost startled at the question. How did that happen, anyway? He was just about to open his link to the Dark Lord, but realized telling him that Potter was here may cause a problem. Potter had somehow defeated him, killing his body but not his soul. Quirrell could either make up an answer or ask in a way that wouldn't make the Dark Lord suspicious. He decided to lie.

"The Dark Lord was trying to perform a ritual on you. The ritual went awry so when he cast the killing curse he was killed and you were spared. It had nothing to do with you; you were just lucky," he sneered.

My shoulders slumped. I guess I figured as much, but it would be nice to have … something … impressive I could do.

Quirrell snapped me out of my thoughts. "The mirror boy! What do you see?"

Turning, I saw an older version of myself. Momentarily startled, I collected my composure and looked at the rest of the image. There was a green field and … cows. In the distance were trees and a farmhouse. Someone was waiving to me from the porch of the farmhouse – a woman, based on the long hair. Squinting, I tried to make out who that was but it was no use. "Stupid glasses," I muttered quietly.

"What's that? What do you see?"

"It's just me. I'm older and it looks like I'm on a farm, and there's –"

"Yes, yes," Quirrell said dismissively. "I know that. Do you see a stone?"

"A stone? No I don't see a …" Just then I looked at my older self, who winked at me. He patted his pocket, and winked again. Suddenly my pocket became heavy and I tried to nonchalantly stick my hand in. My fingers felt the cold, smooth surface of a stone and my eyes widened as I stared back at my older self in the reflection.

Seeing my sudden change in expression, Quirrell narrowed his eyes. "What?" he barked. "What have you figured out? Where's the stone?"

For some reason it didn't even occur to me to lie. I doubt it's because I'm highly moral or anything; I think just scared of what was going on. "In my pocket," I replied quietly.

A lecherous smile broke out over the professor's face and he squatted down next to me. Changing to a menacing sneer, he growled out, "Give it to me. Now."

Shaking, I tightened my grip around the stone and slowly removed it from my pocket. It was surprisingly big – about the size of an orange. It was solid and I could only hold about half of it in my hand. My mind was in overdrive, wondering if I would live to get out of this. The odds were not good.

I did the only thing I could think of. With a sudden jerk, I reared my hand and the stone back and brought it crashing into the professor's face. A sickening crunch resulted as he howled in pain and fell back on his haunches.

Obviously he wasn't injured that bad, so running was out of the question. I jumped on him and continued to wail away on his head and face, swinging the stone down and hearing the steady thud of rock on bone.

Quirrell fought back, punching and grabbing best he could. I kept my eyes closed but thankfully my aim was true – I mean, he was right there in front of me so it was like throwing rocks in the ocean. One hand found its way around my neck and he was squeezing. Stars erupted in my closed eyes, but with each blow that rained down, his defense weakened. Blood started to splatter on my face and clothes, and soon the sounds of the blows were not a 'thud' but more like a 'squish'. Finally I felt a huge rush of air, his grip slacken, and his hand fall away. I gasped for breath and stopped my swinging, my arm and shoulder burning in pain.

I fell back off of the man and panted as I slowly opened my eyes and stared at the ceiling. After a few minutes I propped myself up, looked at the bloody pulp that used to be Quirrell's head, and promptly retched.


	16. Chapter 16 House Rules

**The Sufferer & The Witness**

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* * *

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**Chapter 16: House Rules**

"You will not leave this room, boy! You will not be allowed to keep that bloody owl! And you will stay away from all of us with your … unnaturalness! You're a freak, and a dangerous one to boot, so this is for your own good!"

Returning to the Dursleys, I found a host of surprises – both good and bad. The good was that I had been upgraded from the cupboard to Dudley's spare room. Not that they cleaned it or that it had much in the way of furnishings, but at least it was a fair bit bigger than the closet. The bad was that the door had been replaced with one that had a slot in it and locks on the outside. It looked like I was going to prison. Sure enough, my view out the lone window was of vertical bars – it was a prison.

I then got a long list of rules. I had to make breakfast at half five and be done by half six. At that time I would knock on my aunt and uncle's bedroom door, which was now metal and sported a deadbolt lock, to alert them it was ready. I was then to listen for the car; when it pulled out of the driveway I was allowed to exit my room in order to use the loo and do my chores. After making lunch I was to go back to my room for the evening. I would get one loo break in the evening but beyond that would not be allowed to leave my room.

Uncle Vernon was panting slightly and sweating profusely after finishing up his rules first, and then his tirade towards me. For some reason he had a slightly wild look in his eyes that held not only anger, but a touch of fear as well. After staring at me for a beat, he nodded his head once as if to say _"Well, that settles that!"_ and waddled out the door, clicking the locks in place as he left.

"Well Hedwig, maybe you should go back to Hogwarts. You heard him, you can't stay. I'll see you when I get back to school, yeah?" She hooted softly, gave an affectionate nip on my finger, then squeezed between the bars to take flight. As I watched her disappear, I realized I was in for a long summer.

* * *

"I don't have all day Flint!" Snape barked out, trying to get his 6th year students to bottle their potions and end his last test. Flint came up to him and handed a brown, sludgy-looking mass in a bottle – nothing like the clear green potion it was supposed to be. Snape rolled his eyes at the retreating student's back, _"That boy is lucky he hasn't blown himself up yet. How he managed to become a sixth year is a mystery."_

Unfortunately that was all the reflection time he had; Dumbledore was away and, while Snape didn't put much stock in Divination, he had a feeling today was the day Quirrell would go after the stone. Entering the third floor, nothing seemed amiss; the door leading to the forbidden corridor was still closed. After checking to ensure no students were wandering his way, he flicked his wand to unlock the door and slowly opened it enough to peer inside. A combination of soft music and the slow, deep breathing of 'Fluffy' wafted out toward him.

Tensing slightly and checking his watch – two more hours before Dumbledore would return – Snape weighed his options. Try and confront Quirrell, guard the entry and try to lay a trap, or seek help? Snape thought about his skill with the dark arts, his fast dueling style, and his seniority over Quirrell – the decision seemed obvious, so he plunged forward without backup.

Below the trap door he saw the now-bare room. Quirrell had somehow overcome the veil and defeated the snakes and gargoyles. _"Maybe not…"_ he thought as he saw a body laying on the flagstones. Staying on alert, he strode over to the body and was shocked to see his own student, Terrence Higgs, blankly staring back at him with a surprised look frozen on his features. There was no question he suffered serious wounds, but only the _Avada Kedavra_ would leave the victim looking like this.

Since Higgs was beyond help, Snape reassessed the situation. If Quirrell was using students to help him, Severus knew he might be outnumbered. He knew he still had the superior skills, but must be cautious to avoid being trapped; it wouldn't do for a man of his skills to be taken down by some snot-nosed child! Warily he crept toward the door that led to the mirror he and Dumbledore placed over the Christmas hols.

Pushing the door open just a crack, he did see a student – that little brat Potter. He was looking decidedly green and shaken … and splattered with blood. Deciding to be bold, Snape opened the door wider and slid through to survey the entire room. Besides Potter, the only other person – well, body it appeared – was Quirrell who sported a bashed-in head for his troubles. The stone, sat neatly on the floor between Quirrell and Potter, was not secure and covered in blood.

Since there was no danger present, Snape stalked forward and winced a bit as he stooped low over the stone to pick it up. The scene was grisly – how could a little runt like Potter inflict this much damage, and in such a barbaric way? Potter … clearly the boy was in shock. Sighing, Snape knew his obligation and scooped up the young boy and headed out the door, back to the Headmaster's office.

* * *

Two in the morning chimed as Albus drained a shot of firewhiskey. Unfortunately he was still a few hours from sleep, but at least he could see that a chance to sleep would be coming shortly. Upon returning from a frustrating session of the ICW, he found Snape and a bloodied Harry Potter in his office. The stone sat on his desk, apparently unharmed but covered in blood. Another plan gone awry.

After a quick briefing from Severus, he called for the other heads of house to perform an inventory of the student population. The result: One definitely dead, two others missing (and probably dead), and one alive but severely traumatized. That one was a sticky situation – there were more questions than answers as to what to do with him.

They were able to get the story out of Harry as best as he could relate it. The professors pieced together that Quirrell must have used the Imperio curse to get students to do his bidding. Harry remembered three bodies but had been stunned before he saw what happened to them. Dumbledore knew the fate of Higgs, and figured the other two met the same demise via the 'cleansing' hellfire that destroyed any who couldn't conquer the veil. Harry then went on to describe waking up to see the mirror, get the stone, and then beat Quirrell in order to stay alive.

Poppy contacted a mental specialist from St. Mungo's who asked Harry questions about the event and his life. Thankfully Dumbledore had the presence of mind to shoo Poppy, Severus, and Minerva away during this evaluation as several uncomfortable events floated to the surface. Harry had been physically and mentally abused by the Dursleys, repeatedly. _"Nothing too major,"_ he rationalized; Harry had a couple old breaks in his bones but nothing beyond that was physically lingering.

The specialist said the boy had a very strong survival instinct; if he subconsciously felt he was going to die, he summoned an almost desperate strategy to survive. If he felt he was going to survive but be in pain – perhaps the instinct wasn't there. Without monitoring the boy though, the specialist couldn't be sure. While that was understandable at some level, the means with which Harry accomplished this were shocking. Could he keep the boy in school with a clear conscience?

The more immediate concern was what to do about this summer. While the revealing stories about Harry's home life in the Dursley's house bothered the Headmaster, he didn't see many alternatives. He couldn't ask a wizarding family to take him instead, now knowing the violent tendencies he could have. Besides, Snape reported that Harry wasn't close with any students in the school. Who would take in a total stranger, even if he was the Boy Who Lived? Albus had to suppress a shudder at the families represented in the Slytherin house anyway. There were other reasons not to send him to those people.

Staying at the castle was also out of the question as he needed some supervision; something that wasn't present very often. Having Snape take him in would likely turn out worse than staying with the Dursleys, and he was concerned what Minerva might do. She would either be too strict or too lenient, and Albus felt both these alternatives would be dire. Sirius was dead; Remus was a werewolf and, last he knew, an alcoholic – not the most conducive conditions for raising a boy.

Sighing heavily as the sky started to brighten on the eastern horizon, Dumbledore knew he had to take a trip today – a trip to Surrey.

* * *

Vernon and Petunia Dursley were rooted to the couch in shock. Not just because there was an old, oddly attired man that knocked on their door this morning and invited himself in for some Earl Gray. No, it was also the message he brought. While he confirmed their belief that their nephew was a freak, he revealed a new side to his unnaturalness – he was a dangerous freak.

Vernon recovered first. "Absolutely not! He will not stay in this house and threaten my Petunia or Dudders!" he shouted, quickly turning a dark red in anger.

Dumbledore sighed, knowing the conversation was going to go this way after seeing what kind of people the Dursleys were. He thought again about all the alternatives for Harry's care and unfortunately came to the same conclusion. It had to be the Dursleys. Raising his hand to stop Vernon's tirade, which had been going on for two solid minutes now, Dumbledore knew he had to understand what it would take for them to take him in. He wasn't in a position to bargain.

"What can we do to make sure you feel safe?" he appealed.

Vernon's angry gaze met Petunia's fearful one and they mentally communicated back and forth. "For starters … we want to be compensated. You're essentially asking us to hold a criminal for you."

The venom was evident and Dumbledore was afraid these people would come to this solution. Sighing and rubbing his mustache and chin, he nodded slightly. "I think we can arrange something."

Momentarily surprised, the Dursleys again exchanged quick looks. "And we want to be safe, so we would prefer he kept to his room mostly. Of course we'll need to, ah, beef up the security a bit …" Vernon trailed off as he furtively glanced at the stairwell – a cupboard under the stairwell that had a small padlock on it.

Dumbledore quirked his head in confusion for a moment before he turned on some high level legilimency. Seeing the memories of locking a small boy in the cupboard made it all clear, and he felt his anger rise. "I'm sure we can help you do that, but you'll need to choose a different room." He hoped to at least gain a small victory for Harry.

A whispered conversation led to Vernon grumbling, "Fine. He can use Dudder's second room. Are you going to put these, ah, measures in place yourself or are you going to give us funds to have them contracted out?"

Albus struggled to keep from rolling his eyes. "Since this is a muggle house, I will give you some pounds. That way there aren't any questions that might arise should someone notice the modifications."

The Dursleys visibly relaxed and Vernon extended a pudgy hand. "I believe then we have a deal."


	17. Chapter 17 Summer Snapshots

**The Sufferer & The Witness**

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**Chapter 17**: **Summer Snapshots**

Mr. Greengrass stopped to wipe the sweat from his brow. It was hot – hotter than normal for Lincolnshire – and he was working digging out fence posts along the south side of the pasture. The muggle way. Normally he didn't mind doing a bit of work the muggle way; it was a nice change of pace to 'get your hands dirty' every now and then. But not when the temperatures were in excess of 30 degrees Centigrade!

Unfortunately he had no choice but to do this particular task the muggle way. The south side of the pasture bordered a country road that led to the town of Binbrook, so using magic out in the open like that made Mr. Greengrass nervous. Sighing, he stared up at the cloudless sky with just a touch of malice in his features before turning his attention back to the fence post.

This kind of work didn't require a lot of mental exertion – well, beyond ensuring he wasn't going to pass out from heat stroke anyway – so he let his mind wander to a topic he and his wife had discussed a lot lately: Their oldest daughter Daphne. The normally chipper girl returned home from her first year at Hogwarts a much quieter and contemplative person.

At first he was alarmed that something happened to her. Upon being reassured that she was fine, he then worried about an even bigger concern – boys. She was starting to turn into a woman and honestly that was his worst fear. He loved both his daughters but dreaded seeing them grow up. At some point _they_ would be interested in his daughters. He knew what they were thinking – he thought that way himself when he was at Hogwarts. The school was simply too big for the teachers to clamp down on all that sort of activity. He shuddered in dread, despite the warm temperatures. The old fence post never knew what hit it.

* * *

"Neville!" called Augusta Longbottom. Her grandson dutifully poked his head out from behind a hedge in the small garden. "It's time to get cleaned up for lunch!"

Knowing it was never a good thing to keep his Gran waiting, Neville practically jogged into the house. A few moments later, and a good deal cleaner, he joined her in the dining room. Midway through his meal he felt her eyes boring in on him. He shuddered a bit, wondering if he wasn't eating the way a proper wizard should or perhaps he had forgotten something she asked him to do. That's usually what brought about her scrutiny. Slowly dropping his fork and looking sheepishly up at her, he formed his elegant question: "What?"

Augusta made an unhappy cluck and glared at the boy. "Neville, you're going to turn twelve next week and thought we should hold a soiree here at the Manor." There was no question in Neville's mind this was not a party for him, but an excuse to bring in some wizarding families she was friendly with for gossip and politics.

However, he knew the best path was compliance. Nodding his head slowly he replied, "That would be nice. Thank you, Gran." Usually this was enough for her to leave him be, but she continued to stare back at him. Shifting uncomfortably, he again relied on his social skills. "What?" he asked nervously.

"Perhaps you could invite some of your friends as well. What about … what about your room mates at Hogwarts? Or that one girl I saw you being introduced to her parents on the platform – Granger, was it?"

Neville knew he wasn't the most astute person in the world, but even he could see his Gran's motives on this one. "You want me to invite Hermione over? You want to meet her?"

Sighing in exasperation, Augusta replied, "Yes Neville. She has latched on to you and I want to know what her motivations are."

Flushing a bit, Neville shot back, "You don't think she would want to be my friend if I wasn't a Longbottom?"

"No, I'm not saying that," Augusta started, somewhat surprised by her normally pliant grandson's response. "She's a muggle-born so I know nothing about her family. How am I supposed to judge whether she is good for us to associate with?"

"Hermione is a nice girl," Neville ground out. He was trying to maintain his civility, knowing this challenge could land him in a heap of trouble with the stern guardian.

Sure enough, the authoritative Augusta Longbottom emerged. "Neville! You will speak to me with respect!" Composing herself a bit, she continued, "I'm sure she's a very nice girl and I am not doubting your judgment. All I'm saying is she's unknown to me, as are her parents. Whether you like it or not, the Longbottom name does carry some influence and we need to be mindful of what that means. Our friends are part of that – yours as well as mine."

"Sorry, Gran. I'm sorry I talked back to you."

She canted her head to acknowledge her grandson's apology and added, "Well, it shows me you deserve to be in Gryffindor."

* * *

Hermione looked up at the sound of the front door opening; she was reading in the sitting room when the sound diverted her attention. She saw her parents coming back home after a long day at work. Instead of their usual tired-but-happy looks, her father looked shaken and pale. Her mother clutched her handbag tightly to her chest, her hair askew as if it was a blustery day. "Mum, Dad … are you okay?"

Her father was seemingly startled by the sound of her daughter's voice while her mother didn't acknowledge her at all, still catatonic from whatever befell them. Finally, her father gave a shaky nod and slumped down in a chair. "We're … we're okay. Aren't we dear?" Her mother, now beginning to function, stiffly walked over to her husband and sat down on his lap like Hermione used to do when she was little.

Seeing that no other response was coming, Hermione prodded a bit more. "So … erm … what happened?"

Her father was now rubbing his wife's back in a soothing motion and looked toward his only child with a slightly bewildered look. "We were attacked by an owl! The bloody bugger wouldn't leave us alone! It tried to swoop down on us when we were going to the car, then followed us all along the A320 until we made it home. It then landed on your Mum's shoulder and started … _pecking_ … her hair whilst I tried to beat it away with my briefcase. It finally screeched and flew away."

Hermione groaned internally. When she asked Professor McGonagall about writing her parents, the teacher advised her to send it via owl just down to the Hogsmeade post. They would then mail her letter using the traditional British postal system. She explained this was standard advice given to muggle-born students so that the parents wouldn't incur the shock of their first owl delivery. She now had proof why this was one of the smarter bits of advice McGonagall had dispensed.

"Did the owl drop anything before it flew away?"

Her Mum had recovered enough to look at her daughter curiously. "I … I don't know. It all happened so fast …" she trailed off in a whisper and once again burrowed her head into her husband's chest.

Fighting the urge to roll her eyes, Hermione quickly got up and made it to the front door.

"Hermione! Don't go out there!" her panicking father called after her.

"_Too late!"_ she mentally called out in a sing-song voice. Looking around the car parked haphazardly in the driveway she heard a wary "Hoot!" Perched on the edge of the roof was a very ruffled, and very perturbed, barn owl.

"It's okay," she called out in a reassuring, quiet voice.

Scrutinizing the girl for a good thirty seconds, the owl tried to muster its regal air and alighted gently on her shoulder, sticking its leg out. Once Hermione untied the parchment, the owl gave a harder-than-necessary nip and took flight. With a sigh she turned the scroll over to notice it was addressed to her parents in an unfamiliar scrawl. _"After all that trauma, this better be good."_

* * *

I stared out the window, watching the yellow moon slowly fall behind the rooftops of Privet Drive. "_Another day down,"_ I thought.

So far I had been outside for chores but figured I would be receiving the only owl I expected soon – my school supplies list from Hogwarts. Perhaps I could convince the Dursleys to let me out for just that one day …

The days all blended together in a monotony of work, reading, and sleep. Well, as much sleep as I could get anyway. I was never one to sleep much, but I was getting even less than normal due to the nightmares. The blood – Professor Quirrell's blood – filled my visions. And I beat it out of him.

Maybe they were right. Maybe I was too dangerous to be around others much.

Sighing softly, I once again resolved to stay away from others; it was for their own good.

* * *

Dr. Granger gulped and looked nervously at his daughter via the rearview mirror. "Are you sure this is right?" he questioned again. They drove cautiously through the iron gates along what was barely a track through the grass only to crest the hill and see a magnificent manor house. The house looked to be as large as a city block, with the base structure looking medieval but had since been updated to more of a Tudor style. Tasteful gardens and a pond provided softer contrast.

"I'm pretty sure," said an equally nervous Hermione. She had no idea Neville's family was rich and had relied on his rough directions and a map to find the place. He lived past Swindon, over a 90 minute drive on the M4 from the Woking area the Grangers called home. After calming her parents down and reassuring them this was all normal in the wizarding world, she convinced them to open the scroll and read the letter. It was Neville's 12th birthday and he invited Hermione and her parents to a get-together. It all seemed innocent enough, but the tone and style of the invitation left no doubt this was a formal event. After a bit of cajoling and consulting the map, her parents reluctantly agreed to attend. Now Hermione was trying to keep herself from hyperventilating in the back seat.

Bumping over the last few ruts in the primitive 'driveway', a new challenge greeted them. "Erm … where do you think we should park?" The ruts just sort of stopped in the middle of the lawn with no discernible paved or gravel area nearby. Clearly the wizarding world was not big on driving.

After nervous greetings, the Grangers found themselves shunted off with the adults in the main ballroom and outside pergola while Hermione was invited to join the younger crowd in the solarium. Surveying the group, Hermione saw two groups of her classmates huddled together. One group consisted of Pansy Parkinson, the Patil sisters, Ernie Macmillan, and Millie Bulstrode; the other group had Neville, Blaise Zabini, and Susan Bones together.

"Longbottom, you invited _her_?" an incredulous Pansy Parkinson asked. "I thought this get-together was for wizarding families!"

Neville, who looked decidedly uncomfortable playing host to this particular group, flushed with embarrassment and a touch of … anger? "She's my friend and I want her here." Based on the curious looks from the others, he offered further justification. "My Gran even suggested it. She wanted to meet my friend and her … family …" he trailed off and turned a brilliant shade of crimson. In a show of solidarity, Hermione joined him in his blushing.

"Pansy, just let him be. If his Grandmother is okay with it…" Blaise trailed off and gave a shrug.

For a moment Pansy looked over to the boy with a cold glare before finally relenting. "Suit yourself Longbottom," she said before turning back to the Patils to whisper about this new development.

Hermione, deciding she didn't want any part of Pansy's group, made a beeline toward Neville. "Happy Birthday, Neville! I wasn't able to get to Diagon Alley so I got you something from the muggle world. I hope you don't mind …" She then cautiously revealed a small wrapped box she had been hiding behind her.

Susan stared at the box and turned to Neville with wide eyes. "It's your birthday, Neville? Why didn't you say anything?"

Neville had been recovering from the earlier embarrassment, but now returned to crimson. "It's no big deal. Gran wanted to have a party so I just suggested she invite a couple of people that were nice." Giving a furtive glance toward Hermione, he slowly took the present from her hands and mumbled a quiet "Thank you" to her.

"Well? Aren't you going to open it?" Blaise questioned. Nodding, Neville tore into the paper to reveal a book – it _was_ a gift from Hermione after all! But this wasn't a book he had ever seen before. It was small and had glossy, white paper instead of parchment. The book contained beautifully colored pictures of flowers and plants on every page he flipped to, but the pictures didn't move. Turning back to the cover, he read the title: Wild Flowers and Plants of the British Isles.

"Wow, this is great! Thanks Hermione!"

"So this is a muggle book?" Susan asked, curiously peering over Neville's arm.

"Yes. This is called a field guide, so the book is a little smaller than many books because it's meant to take with you when you're outdoors."

"That's right, the muggles can't shrink it down," Blaise commented. He too was peering at it curiously.

"The paper is so shiny and thin," Susan commented as she rubbed a finger on the page.

Hermione had to stifle a laugh at the amazed looks on her classmates' faces. She remembered being in awe of all the wizarding things and realized this was pretty much the same thing as they probably thought of her – marveling over the most mundane things in their world.

Suddenly Blaise jerked his head up and stared at Hermione, causing her to jump a little. "Granger … how did you and your parents get here?"

She had never really talked to this boy before and if she was honest with herself, she was a little intimidated by him. "We drove. We live in Woking, so we took the M4 most of the way …" she trailed off, realizing he probably wouldn't know, and wouldn't care, about their route.

"So … you came in a car? Is it here?"

She looked back at him quizzically. "Yes …" she said slowly. "We parked it on the lawn out front."

She looked at the small group around her to see if Blaise was the only one acting this way. Neville was looking like a little boy at Christmas. Susan's eyes were wide and looked almost scared. Blaise's normally cool demeanor had evaporated as he broke into a big grin and started glancing between Hermione and the window.

She couldn't hold back any longer and started giggling uncontrollably. Between giggle fits she finally gasped out, "I suppose you want to see it?"

* * *

As Hermione looked on from the passenger seat, Neville looked like a kid in a candy store as he cycled the windshield wipers, powered the driver's seat in all sorts of directions, and blasted the stereo. All while having the hazard flashers going and the door open with the warning chime 'ding ding'-ing in the background. With a huge grin, he turned to her and said, "This is the best birthday I've ever had!"


	18. Chapter 18 Discovery

**The Sufferer & The Witness**

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**Chapter 18: Discovery**

The Dark Lord. Lucius Malfoy eased back in his chair, staring out the window of his private office in Malfoy Manor while absentmindedly swirling firewhiskey in a glass. After all these years, Lucius was still conflicted when it came to thinking about the Dark Lord.

After seeing Draco off to Hogwarts again, Lucius decided to lock himself in his office and go through some of his personal things; things he hadn't seen or touched for many, many years. He was rising in the wizarding government – Fudge had all but announced he would be getting an influential post as one of the Minister's trusted advisors – and he didn't want others to discover some of the darker skeletons in his closet.

Unfortunately such a task meant work. Some of these items hadn't seen the light of day in over a decade; having them handled by house elves or even Narcissa was out of the question. While he did not enjoy the act of organizing these items, he did enjoy the chance to reflect and think about how his life had evolved over the years.

He had grown from a good, but not elite, family. Lucius had ambition, so he craved any chance to make the jump to that upper echelon. Unfortunately he learned the hard way in many situations early in his life that sometimes the sacrifices outweigh the rewards. He got better at this with age, but still some choices yielded gains and losses that were so great it was difficult to decide if it was worth it in the end. The most obvious example of this was his association with the Dark Lord.

At first he was drawn to the Dark Lord by friends. Upon hearing him speak, he appreciated the blood purity rhetoric and saw that initiative and ambition could be rewarded in this environment. He didn't much care for mudbloods and even some half-bloods; they took opportunities Lucius felt should only be available to pure bloods like himself.

Lucius excelled at making connections and using those contacts to drive gains and favors – whether it be financially or politically motivated. The Dark Lord appreciated these efforts and soon Lucius found himself as one of the inner circle.

But once he arrived there, he began to wonder how this would all turn out. Up until that time, a couple things seemed … off … about this organization but it hadn't really affected him in any measurable way. Now that he was in the inner circle, Lucius had to consider not only the Dark Lord's goals but also the methods he employed to achieve them.

The dark mark – he rubbed his left forearm unconsciously – was almost like slavery. The followers were essentially bound to their 'master' and could be summoned at will. Contrary to the popular belief of the wizarding community, it was only a communication device and not some method to actually bind or siphon off magic. However, the communication only worked one way as the Dark Lord used his own magical signature as the only means to activate the mark.

Another concern was just how zealous the Dark Lord was in obtaining his goals. The Dark Lord was prone to violence and quite a few of his followers were more than happy to take on that agenda. Perhaps this is why he had coined the name 'Death Eaters' for his followers in the first place – the bloodlust that truly drove some of the Dark Lord's agenda. In any event, Lucius preferred using money and power to destroy someone; he didn't like to resort to killing curses.

He got up and poured another shot, remembering some of those tense discussions. At first the targets were those that were outspoken and clearly flaunting their refusal to step in line with the Dark Lord. But later, it became harder to understand why certain people were targets. It felt like there was another agenda, something more personal to the Dark Lord...

All told, Lucius knew of only 50 or so deaths the Dark Lord ordered; hearing the wizarding world talk about it now, one would assume he killed thousands for no reason other than sport. Lucius himself had committed two of those killings, and he shuddered with the memory. He took a drink in order to calm his nerves. Reflecting on those 50 or so people that were actually killed, Lucius felt that maybe half were justified to promote their cause. He snorted a bit … 'justified' …

Turning back to the present task before him, he glanced again at what brought on this fit of introspection; a trunk containing many of the Dark Lord's personal affects that Lucius spirited away after hearing of his demise. He never had the courage to go through these before; first because of the arrests and trials he endured due to being a marked follower, and later because he was simply too focused on trying to achieve the life he wanted with Narcissa at his side and the wizarding community looking toward him for guidance. If he was honest with himself he wasn't sure why he took it in the first place. The hours following the Dark Lord's death were chaotic and violent but perhaps in the back of his mind he thought that maybe he could assume power and maintain the core group of Death Eaters while taking a bit more moderate path. Perhaps there were plans or theories contained inside that could help him in his own burgeoning political career?

With a final gulp of firewhiskey he flicked his wand to open the trunk and slowly peered inside. Beyond the usual items – parchment, quills, some robes and other clothing items – he saw a small book and three large ledgers. All were leather-bound and personalized on the front. The ledgers had 'Lord Voldemort' on the front while the small book must have been his from earlier – it had Tom Marvolo Riddle on it.

Unsure why he would want to review the Dark Lord's boyhood thoughts he started in on the first ledger, settling back in his chair for a spot of reading.

* * *

I arrived an hour early to King's Cross, just thankful to have found it successfully and to be on my own for a bit. I couldn't escape the Dursley's fast enough this morning, so as soon as Dudley finished off the last of the bacon I swooped in to gather the dishes and clean them. After getting a curt nod from Aunt Petunia that I left the kitchen clean enough, Uncle Vernon clamped a hand on my shoulder and pushed me out towards the car.

We drove in silence until I noticed we turned off the main road to London. "Erm … Uncle Vernon?" I questioned from the back seat.

"I'm not taking you into London," my Uncle ground out. "I won't waste any more of my time than I have to on a dangerous freak like you. I'm taking you to Morden, where you can take the Underground into the city."

I nodded to show my understanding, secretly glad I cleaned up the kitchen early. I haven't been on the Underground before and had no idea how long it would take to get to Diagon Alley then on to King's Cross.

* * *

The train ride was almost a repeat of my first trip, with Hermione and Neville joining me for some awkward conversation. I noticed the two of them seemed happy to see me, despite the fact we only briefly talked perhaps once a month at Hogwarts last year. They seemed closer than I remembered though, and Neville seemed more comfortable than he had last year.

A quiet knock interrupted my musings, but I kept my head buried in the potions book I was 'reading'.

"Hi, Blaise!" Hermione's chipper voice sang out.

"_Blaise … Zabini? Since when did he become friends with Hermione?"_ I wondered and looked up to see him chatting amiably with both Hermione and Neville. While Blaise was never 'friendly' per se, it was clear that he was at least on comfortable terms with these two. He then turned to look at me with his typical appraising gaze – the gaze I had seen countless times last year.

"Harry," he greeted, inclining his head slightly.

"Blaise," I said, repeating his greeting in a near perfect copy. He held my gaze for another couple seconds before turning back to Neville.

"Well, just wanted to see how your summer hols were. I'll let Susan know I found you two in good spirits, yeah?" He then turned and exited, continuing to gaze at me as he closed the door, before heading back down the corridor.

"_That was … odd,"_ I thought, replaying what happened over and over to try and make some sense of it.

"So do you know Blaise well?" Hermione asked, shaking me from my thoughts.

"Erm … not really. He seems like a nice enough bloke, though," I chipped in, trying not to imply there was something I found distasteful about the boy or anything.

Hermione did her classic 'processing' look for a beat before returning, "Yes, he seems a bit aloof but is really a nice guy once you get to chatting with him. He's really smart too but doesn't want to show off in class." With this she flushed a bit and started playing with her robes.

Neville reached over and patted Hermione on the knee in a comforting way. "You know he was being sincere this summer when he said that, right? He wasn't trying to hurt you."

I sat there shocked, my mind reeling on many levels. First, Neville was being the strong one in this conversation. Second, he was comforting Hermione – a girl! – and doing a good job of it to boot. Finally, even though I clearly was over my head in understanding what that was all about, it appeared Blaise had actually tried to help Hermione with something. Something she wasn't happy with, maybe, but it sounded like he tried nonetheless.

I let my curiosity get the better of me. "So …" I started slowly, "what was that about?"

Strong Neville vanished and he sheepishly looked toward Hermione. She sighed and swiped a hand to her eyes before dropping them back to her lap and her now-wrinkled robes. "He mentioned that some people might be annoyed that I act like a know-it-all in class. He suggested I tone it down a bit – that people might be nicer to me if I did that."

I hate to admit it but he had a point. I knew Hermione well enough to know that was just … her. I guess it was kind of annoying but I was honestly impressed she knew so much. Seeing her now peering at me through her hair, I shrugged. "Maybe, but I like you just fine regardless. Right Neville?"

Neville nodded with urgency and Hermione looked somewhat heartened by the fact that the two people she was sitting with didn't mind her compulsive need to show off her intelligence. "I appreciate that," she said honestly. "I really do. I will try and … tone it down a bit. You know, just to see if Blaise is right and all." Both Neville and I smiled, trying to be as encouraging as we could.

* * *

"Yep, he's back this year," Blaise reported before plopping down next to Susan Bones. "He's in the last compartment with Neville and Hermione."

Daphne nodded, feeling somehow relieved and anxious at the same time. Last term Harry disappeared for the last week of school and wasn't even on the Hogwarts Express for the trip back to London. When the Headmaster sadly announced three students had been killed, she began to wonder if Harry was seriously injured but hadn't succumbed to death yet. She vaguely knew who the three students were who died, but if Harry had been one she wasn't sure how she would handle it. Especially given the rude awakening Blaise had given her.

All summer she thought about her conversation with Blaise – about how she made no effort to get to know Harry. Or Neville and Hermione for that matter. Was she really that petty, or had her attempts to gain friends at Hogwarts changed her somehow?

Things were further complicated when Blaise accompanied his mother to the farm three weeks ago. As they chatted, he mentioned going to Longbottom Manor for a party and having a surprisingly good time. Neville was actually a decent bloke and Hermione, while tightly wound, was actually a considerate person if you could get past her driven nature.

She really enjoyed this trip so far, as she chose to sit with Blaise, Susan, and Hannah Abbot rather than Pansy and the usual Slytherin crew. They were far more relaxed and pleasant despite the fact she didn't know either girl that well. She felt she could be herself around them.

At that moment the door slid open, revealing Pansy. "There you are, Daphne. Had a good summer I trust?" she asked airily, despite the piercing glare she was giving toward her dorm mate.

"I did Pansy. And you?" Daphne replied just as pleasantly, trying to enact her rediscovered personality.

"I was surprised when you didn't join us on the train. I didn't realize you knew these two," she said as she tilted her head in the direction of the Hufflepuffs.

"Pansy," Blaise sighed, sensing the coming cattiness.

"Oh, you're welcome to join us as well, Blaise. Draco mentioned he hasn't seen you all summer and he would like to catch up."

Fighting the urge to roll her eyes, Daphne took a calming breath before replying. "I'm quite comfortable here, Pansy. And I'm enjoying getting to know Susan and Hannah." She said the girls names a bit more forcefully than she intended but wanted Pansy to see that they were real, live people and not just objects.

Raising her brow slightly at Daphne, Pansy took a couple seconds before replying, "I see. And what about you, Blaise?"

"We're actually getting close to the castle, Pansy. Tell Draco to save a spot for me at the welcoming feast."

This must have been a good answer, as Pansy gave a nod to Blaise and exited the compartment. She didn't spare Daphne or the other girls even a glance.

Susan turned toward Blaise with a look of slight awe before breaking into a playful grin. "Now I see why you're in Slytherin."


	19. Chapter 19 A Plan is Formed

**The Sufferer & The Witness**

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**Chapter 19: A Plan is Formed**

"Severus, glad you could make it," said Lucius Malfoy as he tilted his head in greeting. The men quickly entered Lucius' office at Malfoy Manor and, after pouring two glasses of firewhiskey, settled in two comfortable chairs near the windows.

"Lucius, what is going on?" Snape questioned after taking a polite sip of his libation. "Unfortunately I must get back to Hogwarts soon. It's only been a week and already there are seems to be an unending amount of dimwitted students needing my assistance if they have any chance of passing."

Lucius quirked an eyebrow at Snape's remarks before chuckling softly. He then fixed his gaze out the window and mulled over how to start this conversation. "I am about to get an advisor post in our ministry. I'll be one of Fudge's most trusted allies in the administration."

"Congratulations, Lucius," offered Snape as he raised his glass towards his longtime associate. He wasn't sure where this was going yet, but it wasn't to bask in the glory of that announcement. Lucius seemed … troubled … despite this seemingly good news.

A brief smile flickered across Malfoy's face before extinguishing again. "In order to prepare for the inevitable review of my past … associations … I decided to go through a few things I had lying around from our younger years; from our years in the Dark Lord's service."

Snape shifted slightly in his seat, as now his senses were on high alert. This was not the type of conversation he expected to have today.

"I came across some of the personal items the Dark Lord himself owned. At the time I figured they would best be kept away from his enemies' hands. Given the current situation, I need to … distance myself from them a bit."

A few moments of silence passed as the two men stared at each other, trying to mask their emotions over those long-ago memories that were now bubbling just under the surface. "I find myself in a similar position as you. If Dumbledore knew I possessed these items, they will be taken and destroyed. Given the amount of eyes at Hogwarts, I have little faith such a possession would remain hidden."

Lucius knew Snape was intelligent and would see the danger such a plea would put him in. Mulling over the names of other free Death Eaters did not inspire confidence, as they were all either too sadistic or stupid to be trusted. There was one other option however…

Lucius stood and took the third large ledger and flipped through the pages for a bit before settling on one and reading it through again. Severus observed his friend's behavior with a curious gaze before Lucius turned to face him. "Perhaps you should read this before we discuss this matter further."

* * *

"Ah Minerva, Severus, please come in," Albus greeted as he gestured toward two chairs in front of his desk. "The school year seems to be passing by with amazing speed and we haven't had a chance to discuss much. How is the school year progressing so far? Are there concerns that need addressing?"

Minerva dove in first. "Actually Albus, I have some concerns regarding staffing. I know we are always in a pinch for a Defense teacher, but honestly – Lockhart?" At the mention of that fraud Snape rolled his eyes.

The headmaster sighed and rubbed his nose. "Clearly that wasn't my first choice, but there are so few individuals willing to take on that position."

"I would be more than happy to do so, Headmaster. I do believe I've told you that the last several years," Snape declared, trying to keep any malice from his voice.

"Yes, yes," Albus said with a wave of his hand, indicating he had this conversation frequently. "And as I've always said, finding a suitable potions instructor is harder than Defense. If we could find one of those we would both be happy, true?

"Now besides Lockhart, are there any other concerns?" McGonagall looked over toward Severus, mentally judging whether Snape would back her up if she brought up another issue that bothered her.

Finally deciding to give it a shot, she started, "I do worry about the lack of students' grasp on history. Perhaps it's time to examine whether Binns should be kept on?" Another glance toward Snape revealed he was actually considering it, which caused Minerva to straighten up a bit in pride that she read the dour man properly.

"Perhaps you are right …" Albus started. "History would be an easier position to fill, although the person I would want carries some … baggage."

"I'm not surprised," murmured Minerva, earning her a dirty glare from Snape.

Turning his attention to Dumbledore, Snape asked, "Who did you have in mind?"

The headmaster turned toward the two professors, with his eyes twinkling. "I personally know of a person who is available. Remus Lupin."

Snape blanched at the suggestion, fighting to keep a calm tone to his voice. "Do you feel it's wise to have someone with his … affliction … in a school full of children?" While Lupin himself didn't inflict much torment on Severus when he was younger, he allowed his cohorts to do it. This was enough to taint the man in his eyes.

"Now Severus, you must admit Remus has a sharp mind and a firm grasp on the subject. Since we have a fully qualified potions master on staff, I believe he could easily keep his condition in check."

"Surely you are not suggesting I help Lupin out of the kindness of my heart," Snape shot back. Collecting himself, he continued, "Perhaps we could make a deal." Minerva rolled her eyes.

Dumbledore's eyes remained twinkling but his features hardened. He leaned over his desk and steepled his hands together before commenting, "Perhaps, but it's best to keep in mind other deals we have already negotiated."

Nodding stiffly in recognition, Snape continued his proposition. "I believe it's safe to assume Lockhart won't be asked to return next year? If so, I would like the Defense position. In exchange I will brew the Wolfsbane potion for Lupin and help you start the search for a potions replacement straightaway."

"You want the Defense position that badly, Severus?" Minerva questioned.

Choosing to summarize rather than answer directly, Snape replied, "This year Lupin can step in to teach the majority of the history classes, with Binns perhaps teaching when he is … unavailable. I have a project that will require more time than I have outside of my obligations here, so I will be contacting qualified potions masters anyway. I can inquire about their willingness to come to Hogwarts next year."

Dumbledore gave a curious glance toward Snape. "What sort of project are you involved with? Is that why you left the school grounds last weekend?"

Snape stared back at the Headmaster, his face devoid of emotion. "Yes, Headmaster," was his only reply. The two remained locked in their gazes before Albus eased back into his chair.

"I shall contact Remus to confirm his interest then we'll start this plan in motion. Any other points we need to discuss? Very well, I'll let you know the progress as soon as I am able to. Good night."

As soon as the two professors were outside of the office and past the gargoyle, Minerva grabbed Snape's shoulder. The man flinched, then turned to scowl at the Deputy Headmistress; he did not like to be touched by anyone.

"Severus, I just want to make sure you are okay with Remus potentially coming here. I know that, while he didn't directly cause you trouble, his presence must bring back some difficult memories."

"While I appreciate your concern," he started, trying to keep the sneer out of his voice, "I am fully capable of having a professional relationship with Lupin. If he is civil, I will be civil." He then turned and stalked down the corridor toward his personal quarters, leaving an apprehensive McGonagall in his wake.

* * *

"You are certain this will work?" Lucius asked again. Snape fought to roll his eyes as the two men huddled over the third ledger at Spinner's End.

"I am certain. By separating out the duties of the potion to four different masters, none will be able to see what the Dark Lord was trying to achieve. All four potions will be stable and can be combined by us when the time is right."

After a few more seconds of silence, Lucius asked again, "You are certain this will work?"

While it was the same question as previously, Snape knew this time there was a different meaning. "I've never seen a potion like this before. The fact the Dark Lord was able to even conceive of such an idea is extraordinary, let alone actually trying to make it a reality. I cannot say if his premise was correct." Snape's gaze became unfocused before asking his own question. "Lucius, do you really want to do this? To bring him back?"

"I don't know, Severus. I don't know."


	20. Chapter 20 A Link to the Past

**The Sufferer & The Witness**

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**Chapter 20: A Link to the Past**

I was running late – later than normal anyway. I took a longer than usual walk through the grounds as it was a rare nice day for this time of year. Beyond that, school had been in session for nearly two months and today was Halloween. I hated Halloween. I thought seriously about staying outside all day; that way if yet another dreadful thing happened to me the mess would be easier to manage.

Finally giving in to my growling stomach, I decided to screw up the courage to wander back inside. At least today was Saturday, so I didn't have to worry about classes.

When I entered, I noticed that there was some piece of gossip making the rounds. The Great Hall was unusually full for a Saturday morning as well, so I had to slip into a seat beside Ted Nott and across from Blaise Zabini. Ted eyed me with some heat for a bit, before turning back to the chocolate frog cards he was sorting on the table. Blaise merely raised an eyebrow in my direction and began his favorite pastime: Giving me that appraising gaze again.

Already on edge because of the day, I tried to calm myself by digging into my plate of eggs. Feeling his gaze continue to pierce my head, I finally slammed down my fork. "What?" I questioned with some heat.

Blaise, damn him, was as cool and unflustered as always. "A little on edge today, Potter?" I grumbled under my breath and picked up my fork to resume breakfast.

I heard him sigh, then lean forward a bit. "You missed Professor Snape. He came into the common room this morning after you had already left for your walk – or whatever it is you do – and told us there would be an announcement at breakfast today." Straightening back up to his normal unconcerned-yet-superior posture, he continued, "Now you know, so you can calm down yeah?"

Feeling properly chastised, I looked across at him before taking a deep breath. "Thank you, Blaise. I'm sorry I snapped."

With a slight incline, Blaise acknowledged his supreme benevolence in the matter and turned to the staff table as Dumbledore made his way to the podium. Fighting down a fresh flare of disgust at the boy's high and mighty attitude, I also turned to hear what the big news was about.

"As you all know today is Halloween, a most special day in the wizarding world. Tonight, we continue our annual tradition of a feast and I encourage you all to join the celebration." I could have sworn he glanced my way as he said that before continuing on, "Since today is a Saturday, the staff decided it would be appropriate to extend the festivities and have an informal dance afterward."

With this proclamation, half of the school – seemingly the female half – started whispering excitedly while the other half groaned in disapproval. While I was firmly in the second half, I did feel cheered that this might be the worst part of Halloween for me. _"Sure beats getting nearly bludgeoned to death by a troll," _I reasoned.

After a few seconds of allowing the students to chatter away amongst themselves at this news, the headmaster raised his hands for quiet. "I do have one other important announcement I wish to make. After many, many years of service to Hogwarts, Professor Binns will be transitioning to retirement this year."

"More like transitioning to the afterlife," Ted quipped beside me, earning a few chuckles from those in hearing range.

"As a result, he will be team-teaching the rest of the year with a new member of the Hogwarts staff. Please allow me to introduce Professor Remus Lupin."

As polite applause began to emanate from the students, a thin, pale man with brown hair stepped up to the podium to shake the headmaster's hand. Lupin whispered something in Dumbledore's ear, earning a small nod in return.

Once again turning to the students, the headmaster dismissed the group. "That is all for now. Enjoy the rest of the day and we hope to see all of you at 6 this evening for the start of the feast."

As the students began to stir and depart, I tried to shovel the last couple bites of my breakfast down before returning to the dorms. Swinging around on the bench I froze at the sight in front of me – the headmaster and the new professor. "Harry, may we have a word?"

* * *

Walking out of the great hall, Daphne continued to cast glances back at the now-abandoned Slytherin table where only Harry sat. In front of him were the headmaster and Professor Lupin. "What do you think that's about?" she questioned Blaise, who fell in beside her.

"Don't know, don't care," was his curt reply.

Daphne stopped dead in her tracks and glared daggers at her friend. "Stop being a prat!" she growled out.

Blaise took a big sigh and fought to keep from rolling his eyes. After a few seconds of taking deep, calming breaths Blaise finally turned to Daphne and screwed his face into a fairly sincere look. "I apologize for snapping at you. Are we square?"

Daphne didn't fight it – she did roll her eyes. If she hadn't known Blaise for a while she would think the same thing that many girls did: That he had an arrogant streak to go along with the sometimes-suave mannerisms. "You're forgiven, just don't do it again."

Blaise raised an eyebrow at the girl, who could clearly become quite the haughty princess if she tried. "Okaaay," he drawled out, fighting to keep the smirk off his face.

Making a "hmph!" sound, Daphne changed topics. "So do you want to eavesdrop on what's going on in there?"

After considering both the girl's behavior and the offer for a moment, he consented. Hurrying back to the great hall, they pushed themselves behind the partially open doors on each side and strained to hear what was going on.

* * *

"Um … sure," I managed to squeak out, answering Dumbledore's request.

"Excellent!" the headmaster replied, his eyes twinkling. "Harry, the Professor here was most anxious to meet you and I thought this would be a good opportunity for you two to chat."

I regarded the professor again, this time with my attention fully on the man. He was quite thin and pale, as I had seen before. But what I couldn't see from afar were the faint scars that were on his face and neck; the worn and patched robes he wore; the dark circles under his yellowish eyes; the graying hair and lines on his face. Previously I would have guessed he was about Aunt Petunia's age. Up close, I put him at least 10 years older. For some reason he also looked incredibly nervous.

"Harry, it's good to see you again," the professor started softly, extending his hand toward me. I took it slowly, much to the relief of the professor, and shook hands briefly. _"Again?"_ I mentally questioned.

"Well then, I'll let you two be. Remus, please come and see me when you are finished and we can get you settled in. Good day!"

As Dumbledore turned to leave, the professor seemed torn. That nervousness returned as he watched the headmaster depart, but seemed anxious to chat with me. I had no such confliction – I wanted to get the heck out of there.

The strange man shot me a quick look before taking a seat at the Hufflepuff table across the aisle from me, giving us about four feet of separation. He stared at me a bit, causing me to squirm uncomfortably in my seat, before the corner of his mouth turned up in a small smile.

"You don't remember me, do you?"

I narrowed my eyes, racking my brain for any snippet, any shred, of recollection I could find. Coming up empty, I merely shook my head mutely.

After nodding slowly in acknowledgment, the professor nearly whispered, "I'm your Godfather, Harry."


	21. Chapter 21 Backstory

**The Sufferer & The Witness**

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* * *

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**Chapter 21: Backstory**

I sat there for a good thirty seconds, just staring back at the man. Finally I blurted out, "But I don't know who you are."

The professor seemed to deflate a bit, breathing out a large sigh and hanging his head. As he ran his hand through his hair I noticed he seemed … broken.

"Harry, I'm afraid I haven't been there for you, so you have every right to keep me away from you. I can assure you I will maintain a proper student/teacher relationship; you have no need to worry about having to interact with me any more than you do your other professors." Forcing a small, pained smile the man gathered himself to stand up.

"Wait," I called out, startling myself with my boldness. The professor froze, a look of dim hope flickering on his face. I took this moment to drop my head to try and sort out the thoughts swirling around. _"Why did I do that? Do I really care, or did I just feel sorry for him? I guess I'm just curious; at least I can find out more about my family, yeah?"_

Nodding slowly as I was winning the mental battle, I raised my head back up to look at the man. "Er … maybe we can just talk a bit?"

The professor looked relieved and cautiously eased himself back onto the Hufflepuff bench. This time he stayed leaning forward, eager to engage in conversation. "Thank you Harry. That's more kindness than I deserve." Before I could fully contemplate this comment, he moved on, "So, what would you like to talk about?"

"I don't know much, so maybe start at the beginning. How do you know me, professor?"

He smiled a bit. "First off, Harry, I'm not your professor yet. And we're having a private conversation here, so you can call me Remus, or Mr. Lupin, or Moony if you wish."

"Wait," I blurted out. _"I really got to control that,"_ I mentally chastised myself. "Moony?"

"A nickname your father and our friends gave me," he replied, waiving his hand airily as if to say it was nothing important.

"So you knew my father? You were friends with him?"

"Yes, I knew both James and Lily," he replied, his eyes becoming pained and unfocused as the memories came back into his mind. "They were good people, Harry. I'm sure you know that."

"Actually, I don't sir," I replied self-consciously.

Remus' eyes became sharply focused. "You don't?" he questioned. "Didn't your Aunt Petunia tell you about them?"

I shook my head, watching the fire build in his eyes at my denial.

"I knew it," he muttered to himself. "They should have never put you there."

I was totally confused at this point. "I'm not following," I said almost apologetically.

Remus sighed and the fire in his eyes dimmed. "Let's start at the beginning, shall we?"

For the next two hours Remus covered my parents' time in Hogwarts, how they all became friends, when my parents started dating and eventually how they got married. At that point the story turned darker.

My Dad entered into the wizarding government, and he rallied against a new foe called Tom Marvolo Riddle. Riddle's politics leaned toward the fanatical, but he was charismatic and had the ear of those who would benefit from the discrimination he was trying to enact. Due to these darker leanings, people called him the Dark Lord and seemed to have several questionable allies.

"Riddle wanted to gain an influential political post, an advisor to the Minister of Magic. He needed the support of the Wizengamot in order to do so, and your father worked hard to block it. He called on our friend Sirius Black for help. Black's family supported Riddle, but Sirius wasn't cut from the same cloth, so to speak. He convinced his mum that he should attend the vote and represent the Black family; that he would uphold their family traditions." Here Remus' eyes began to tear and his expression became jovial yet pained at the same time. "Good ol' Padfoot voted against Riddle though – against his mum's wishes – and blocked Riddle from gaining the post."

Remus' voice began to crack. "He was found dead the next day, along with Wormtail. Um … Peter Pettigrew, another friend."

I sat in horrified silence, listening to the train wreck of events that I had a growing sense of dread would lead directly to me. Perhaps it was good I had no friends, since this would surely be their ending as well.

"Riddle was furious. Sirius was gone, but he knew James was behind all of this. Sirius' death looked like an accident though, so we didn't think about the possible danger. Sirius was a close friend, and we were all grieving." Remus then looked up at me with pained eyes, "Harry, Sirius was your first godfather."

My eyes widened at the news. This was all so new, so twisted; I had a hard time just taking it all in, let alone trying to process it. Finally I choked out, "So, after Sirius died, you became my godfather?" Remus nodded slowly, tears now freely flowing down his face.

After a shuddering breath, Remus continued his story. "About six months after that, your parents were in their home in Godric's Hollow. It was late and I had just left. That night, Riddle – or maybe some of his men, although no one knows for sure – came to your house and killed James and Lily," Remus' face tightened in pain and he gave a shuddering breath before being able to continue. "And then came after you. They tried to kill you … at least tried some dark spell, no one is sure what … and somehow you lived. They found your parents dead and Riddle's body in your room as you were crying."

I sat stone still, my mouth open and tears flowing down my face as well. I gathered from Hagrid that my parents were murdered, but hearing the account with so much detail left me chilled.

Steeling himself, Remus continued, "So now you were an orphan and I was the godfather. I had every intention of taking you in, but by this time Riddle had made enough inroads into the political system they deemed me unworthy to be a parent. When it became clear that I wasn't going to be the choice to care for you, Professor Dumbledore pushed the ministry to place you with your remaining biological relative – Petunia Dursley."

Feeling lost again – and with my turbulent emotions I probably couldn't understand even the most simple of things anyway – I questioned, "Wait, why couldn't I have stayed with you? I don't care if you were a criminal or something; anything would have been better than having to live with the Dursleys."

Remus looked shocked for a moment, then I saw that fire in his eyes return. Looking away momentarily to calm himself, he spoke in a low growl, "Dumbledore and I will be having words about this." After a couple deep breaths he turned back to me with a softened look. "Harry, I have a … medical condition … that might make it difficult to take care of you at certain times. I insisted I could do the job, but they wouldn't listen and rejected me. I'm sorry to have failed you," he finished in a whisper.

Squirming uncomfortably, I tried to process this latest set of revelations. _"Dumbledore was behind me having to go to the Dursleys? And what's wrong with my godfather?"_ My curiosity got the better of me and I decided to voice my second question. "Um, Mr. Lupin? What is wrong with you?"

For a brief instant, the corner of his mouth hooked up in a small smile. "Many, many things, Harry. But I think what concerned the Ministry was that I'm a werewolf."

I felt my body stiffen as my eyes became wide. _"A werewolf?!? In Hogwarts?!? How is this safe?"_ I quickly blurted out, "So how are you allowed to teach?"

Remus sighed and sat back on the bench in a defensive, guarded posture. "Harry, I assure you the headmaster is taking the proper precautions for someone like me." Looking at me with a harder expression than I had received from him so far, he leaned forward again. "So Harry, what do you know about werewolves anyway? That they bite children? That they cannot control their bloodlust? That they are vile and evil creatures that should be killed?" He shook his head slightly in disgust and began to study his fingers. "Werewolves, when changed, can have those tendencies if the person wants to be that way. By taking wolfsbane potion, I still transform but maintain human intelligence and reasoning. Obviously I'm not fit to be teaching a class due to my appearance and my inability to speak, but I am not a dangerous killer." He emphasized these last few words with some conviction, making me feel properly abashed.

"I'm sorry Mr. Lupin. I honestly don't know anything about werewolves except what I saw in books and TV."

"So you only know what the muggle world thinks about us, not even what the wizarding world thinks?" I nodded my head, realizing how foolish I was to jump to conclusions. After studying me for a moment, Remus extended his hand. "I see you are honest, Harry. That's something I do admire, even if you started out with the wrong conclusion. No harm done, yeah?"

I gratefully took his hand and stood up, realizing how stiff and sore I had become sitting on the bench for so long. Remus joined me, and with a lighter countenance announced, "I should really go see Dumbledore and get settled. Perhaps tomorrow we can talk some more?"

"I would really enjoy that, Mr. Lupin," I responded, grateful that this man was so willing to overlook my initial prejudice.

Remus seemed relieved that the discussion went as well as could be expected and almost seemed genuine in wanting to talk more with me. I never had someone who actually wanted to spend time with me and I wasn't sure what to make of it.

Because my mind was sifting through this and all of the history Remus shared, I didn't notice the two students behind the Great Hall doors who stood rooted to the floor, shocked at all they had heard.


	22. Chapter 22 Damage Control

**The Sufferer & The Witness**

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* * *

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**Chapter 22: Damage Control**

_"This has to be one of the dumber ideas,"_ I mentally groused as I surveyed the scene before me. After my discussion with Mr. Lupin, I did the only thing that made sense to me; I took a long walk. As darkness descended I was forcibly reminded that today was still Halloween, with the added bonus of an 'informal dance'. And Professor Dumbledore is supposed to be one of the smartest wizards ever?

Taking a deep breath, I walked into the great hall and tried to skirt along the walls to the Slytherin table, anxious to avoid everyone and everything this evening. The students filling the hall were practically quivering with nervous energy, dressed up in robes of all types and styles. I simply had on my typical school robes, but thankful that I at least decided to put that on rather than my usual worn and baggy 'muggle' clothes I wore on the weekends.

Finding a blank spot on the table to sit down, I looked around at the students. Draco was holding court with his typical crowd, but had Pansy Parkinson sitting beside him. She had on a very nice looking cobalt blue robe with a low neckline in front. I had no idea why she chose this style, as the low neckline just accentuated the fact she had a non-existent chest at this point. In fact, several of the 1st through 3rd year girls seemed to take this approach; trying to look older and more mature than they really were. It seemed like the 4th and 5th years were in transition as they vacillated between looking awkward and unsure about their own appearance but very interested in the opposite sex. The 6th and 7th years were already pairing up in anticipation for the dance after the banquet, seemingly assured in their appearance and their targets.

I couldn't help but smirk at the angst caused by one simple announcement this morning. All in all I had to grudgingly admit this was turning out more fun than I imagined.

* * *

For what felt like the twentieth time, Daphne glanced over to where Harry sat in the shadows of the great hall and asked Blaise, "Shouldn't we go talk to him or something?"

Blaise expelled a long-suffering sigh. "Daphne, drop it. We weren't even supposed to be listening and I don't think you've said a single word to him the whole time we've been at Hogwarts. It would be suspicious to all of a sudden go up and talk to him now."

Grudgingly, she agreed with Blaise and kept spinning around the great hall. Blaise could definitely dance, and it was times like this she appreciated their friendship. Even if he was a prat.

Blaise cleared his throat, breaking Daphne out of her reverie. "You know, it wouldn't be fair to you if I took every dance. There are other boys who I'm sure would want to dance." While his words sounded noble, Daphne couldn't help but notice his eyes shifting to where Susan Bones and Hannah Abbot were standing.

With what she hoped were bright, adoring eyes, she responded, "No, I think I'm quite happy where I am." She then proceeded to pull a little closer to the now wide-eyed Blaise. They danced along a couple more minutes until the song ended. Daphne then smirked up at Blaise and said, "If you want to go ask Susan or Hannah to dance, just say so. Don't make it seem like it's my idea, yeah?" With a small stomp onto his foot, earning her a grimace from Blaise, she continued, "That type of behavior is how you get to be known as an arrogant git."

As he tried to recover the feeling in his toes, he could only shake his head and look abashed as she walked away with a haughty look. "And she thinks I'm the mean one," he mumbled darkly.

* * *

Hermione practically bounded up to me, dragging along poor Neville in her wake. "Hi Harry!" she greeted happily. "Isn't this fun? The food at the feast was wonderful and the great hall looks breathtaking. Neville has been a good sport with the dancing," here Neville shot me a pained, yet frightened look. "We just thought we would take a break and see how you're doing. Have you gone out on the dance floor yet?"

A growing sense of my own fright began gnawing away in my stomach. "Erm … I don't know how to dance, so no." Upon hearing that, Neville blanched a bit, then took on a look of grim resignation. If I wasn't so unsure about whether I had actually escaped, I would have fallen off my chair laughing at his cycling emotions. Instead, I peered back at Hermione to see if this statement did the trick.

"Hmm … I see …" she started, cocking her head to the side like she always does when thinking through a new development in her life. "Well, I could always teach you …"

Without warning, her hand shot out to grab my arm. Instinctively I guarded myself by slapping her hand away and turning my shoulder so that my face and chest were protected. The slap resonated against the flagstones and Hermione let out a squeak of surprise before stepping away, wide-eyed. Neville, momentarily frozen, shook himself out of this state and drew her into his arms. "Harry?" he whispered to me while putting himself between us.

The sudden silence in this particular corner of the great hall only accentuated the glare of several pairs of eyes I felt burning into me. I looked up at Hermione and saw the shock, the hurt I had caused. I had to get out of there. Quickly.

"Sorry," I choked out while scrambling to my feet. This action caused Neville to press Hermione closer to him and I felt whatever traces of self-confidence leave me. Keeping my head ducked down, I sprinted out of the great hall and realized that this Halloween was even worse than the last.

* * *

The four professors sat in Dumbledore's office, the festive atmosphere long since vanished. After rubbing his eyes wearily, the headmaster stood to gaze out the window before speaking. "At this time I'm unsure what to do about young Mr. Potter. We have seen violence from him before, but always when he was in extreme situations with high risk to his well-being. Has that violence pushed into other aspects of his life? Do we need to be concerned for the safety of the students?"

"Albus, what do you mean that you've seen violence from him before?" Remus questioned. Since he was the boy's godfather, Albus decided he should be a part of these discussions and especially in light of tonight's events. McGonagall quickly began the story of the troll last Halloween before Remus nearly jumped out of his seat, "He was attacked by a troll!?! How could you let such a creature in the school?"

Snape rolled his eyes. Unwilling to go through this discussion again, he attempted to control it right now. "Once this … incident … occurred, we removed the trolls from the school. There are no such creatures currently in the castle."

"So what other incidents with Harry are you referring to?" Remus questioned, the tightness in his voice giving away his struggles to keep his emotions in check. The professors all looked at each other with hesitancy before they silently nominated the headmaster to tell this tale.

"Last year, Professor Quirrell attempted to steal a magical object being kept in the school. He used students to help him obtain it and one of those captured was Harry. When Harry successfully retrieved the object, he … used it … to subdue Quirrell."

Snape couldn't help himself after hearing the headmaster's cryptic description of events. "Sir, if you feel you can trust Mr. Lupin," he tried hard not to put much malice in these words, "You should tell him the events in plain terms. The boy took the object, a stone, and bludgeoned Quirrell to death with it."

Lupin slumped down into the chair, shock washed across his face. "Bludgeoned him to death? He's only twelve years old!" he choked out.

"He was eleven at the time, actually," Snape pointed out. He silently enjoyed seeing Lupin cringe a little more at this declaration.

Ignoring Severus, Minerva patted Remus' leg sympathetically. "When you talked to him today, did he mention any of this?" Remus could only shake his head mutely. "Perhaps you could have another talk with him?" This time he nodded mutely and everyone could see his brain jolt back into motion to prepare for this discussion.

Turning to Minerva, his vision focused again. "How's the girl? Is she hurt?"

"No, she's fine. Very surprised and somewhat scared though. Neville has been quite supportive of her though and yet seems to have not passed any judgment on Harry. Hermione can get quite intense, but he's managed to keep her in check."

"I told you he should have been a Hufflepuff," Snape muttered. Minerva spared a loathing glare at the potions master before turning back to Remus.

"So you will talk to him and let us know how it goes?"

"Yes, I'll find him as soon as I can."

Albus then asserted control of the conversation again. "Then perhaps we will convene tomorrow once you've had your discussion. In the meantime, Severus, can you make sure to keep an eye on him whilst he's in the Slytherin dorms?"

"As you wish, headmaster."

* * *

Snape's job turned out to be relatively easy. Entering the common room, he told the nearest boy to fetch Draco. Draco came stumbling into the common room, rubbing his eyes sleepily. "Professor Snape, what's going on?"

"Draco, has Potter returned?" Snape questioned in a business-like tone.

That tone got Draco's attention and he immediately became more awake. "No sir, I haven't seen him since he decked the mudblood," he said with some glee.

Snape looked at the boy with an arched eyebrow which caused Draco's grin to melt away. "If you see him, send him to my office immediately."

"Yes sir," Draco responded to the back of Snape's billowing robes as he glided out of the dormitory.

Once in the hall, Snape closed the door and approached the portrait of a woman with high cheekbones, blond hair, and a haughty look. "Madam, I am looking for Harry Potter. Can you alert the other portraits and ghosts? Please let Professor Lupin," this time he didn't hold back his disgust as he spat out the name, "Know his whereabouts. Don't worry about the time of day; he'll want to know straightaway."

After getting acceptance, Severus headed back to his quarters. He had a potion to brew.


	23. Chapter 23 Fragmented Knowledge

**The Sufferer & The Witness**

* * *

**Chapter 23: Fragmented Knowledge**

"Harry?"

I sighed quietly, but kept my gaze looking out over the forbidden forest. It was cold but clear, so the stars were twinkling softly in the night sky while I was buffeted by the slightest hint of a cold breeze; a perfect fall night to compensate for my decidedly less-than-perfect countenance.

I chose not to respond, and I felt the person slowly walk up behind me and stop momentarily before deciding to sit next to me and dangle their feet off the astronomy tower just like I was.

"I know the last thing you want to do is talk, but I'm afraid you need to." I grimly nodded, knowing it would come to this. After a few seconds of silence, he spoke again. "She's fine, Harry. A little surprised perhaps, but she's fine."

I nodded some more, still keeping my eyes forward. I felt the tears slowly form and trickle down my cheeks, but they were the only sign of my distress as I had long ago learned to keep my breathing calm and to not make a sound. I felt bad about hitting Hermione; she was one of the few people that actually talked to me and now … now I wasn't so sure. Not that it mattered anyway, as they would send me back to Little Whinging and I would have to deal with the Dursleys again. This time they would know I was a freak and a failure, just like they were always claiming.

* * *

Remus sat on the astronomy tower for close to thirty minutes, just watching his godson silently cry. He had never been around a lot of kids; being a werewolf tended to discourage others from thinking he would be a reliable source of child care. However, he had seen enough to know something was wrong – terribly wrong – with his godson. He used the time to think about his not-yet 24 hours worth of observations and discussions with the boy: The extreme shyness despite obvious curiosity; the worn and tattered, oversized clothing he had on this morning; Dumbledore's concerns about Harry's treatment at the Dursleys; the stories he heard this evening about Harry's first year; the account of his actions toward Hermione.

The professor felt he had an advantage over many wizards. One of the unintended consequences of his condition was that wizarding society forced him to the margins of its world. Having very little opportunity there, he had more exposure to the muggle world than most wizards would receive in their lifetime. Before getting this opportunity at Hogwarts, Remus had literally worked hundreds of odd jobs that lasted only a week or two – delivering mass mailing materials or packages during the holiday season, cleaning out rubbish from old buildings and lots, hauling hay, unloading lorries – whatever he could do for a few pounds, he would take. Since he usually received pounds, not galleons, he would buy food and other staples in the muggle world as well. Spending that much time in the muggle world, he couldn't help but be somewhat familiar with the major issues muggles faced. In order to have any kind of common ground with either his bosses or fellow workers, he had to know about football, the Queen Mum and the Royals, and the latest news stories. Usually in that order.

Suddenly Remus stiffened as it all clicked in place: Harry had been abused and neglected. Dumbledore mentioned being 'concerned' about Harry's treatment by the Dursleys – is this what warranted 'concern' from the man? Fighting down his anger, he quickly thought of a way to broach the topic. _"Wait, __should__ I broach the topic?"_ Quickly he dredged his mind, trying to remember anything he had read regarding children like this. Unfortunately most of the stories he had read were news stories; they spoke of the incident and the public outrage, but did not usually discuss the treatment or coping. He would have to get a book or something from the muggle world, as he didn't ever recall hearing about these issues in the wizarding world. With a chill he realized that it was probably just as prevalent, if not more so, in the wizarding world than the muggle world; it was just buried like so many other deep, dark secrets in society.

Not wanting to leave the boy totally on his own, Remus extended his hand in a comforting gesture.

* * *

Totally lost in my thoughts, I noticed a hand coming at me out of the corner of my eye. Instinctively I slapped it away then scooted back away from the man – Professor Lupin – beside me. _"I just hit a teacher!" _I mentally screamed as I looked at the man frozen in front of me. His hand was still extended and he looked at it with a kind of sadness in his eyes. I was definitely getting expelled now.

* * *

Remus could only stare at the growing red mark along his wrist while marshalling his defenses against the grim reality. He was now certain that Harry Potter had indeed been abused and neglected to the point where he could barely be touched. Looking up at the frightened boy, he schooled his features in the kindest, most understanding look he could come up with. Fighting to keep his voice from cracking with emotion, Remus finally choked out, "Harry, it's okay. You're okay. You're not going to be expelled. We'll get you help."

* * *

Horace Slughorn shifted uncomfortably despite being perched in his overstuffed chair. Every now and then he shot a calculating gaze at the dark-haired man in front of him, as if trying to divine some deeper truth than what he could see with his eyes. "So tell me again what you're trying to accomplish?"

Severus fought to keep from rolling his eyes. "I didn't tell you in the first place," he responded in the most controlled voice he could muster. "It is for a … client … of mine and I'm uncertain as to the outcome myself." While this wasn't technically a lie it was a half-truth. Severus knew what he was trying to accomplish, but he didn't know if it would work.

Slughorn studied the man some more. He was never very fond of Severus even though he did admit the man was a gifted potions master. There was something off about the man; a certain desperation to show his superiority over everyone else. When it came down to it, Horace would have bet that Severus, not Tom Riddle, would have the rumors about being dark swirl around him. Not that Horace was convinced Tom was that dark either, although that business with the Potters was certainly troubling.

"You will supply all the ingredients?" the rotund man asked warily.

"Yes," ground out Snape. He hated to do this, but truth be told he needed Slughorn to brew this. He split the recipe with this portion in mind for his old head of house, knowing he was one of only two or three who would take the proper care required.

Horace looked back at the potion notes printed in tight, small handwriting on the piece of parchment Severus gave him earlier. The potion he was being asked to brew required high precision even though it was not dangerous. However, it was incomplete. Clearly this was intentional, as Severus would easily spot this as well as he did.

But the fragment made no sense. How many fragments were there? What was the final potion being used for? A gnawing uneasiness filled Slughorn's stomach as he became more wary of what the Hogwarts teacher was trying to accomplish. But … he was retired now. Occasional income – especially the promise of a sizeable payment such as this – reduced that wary feeling somewhat. _"I honestly have no idea what this potion will lead to," _Horace mentally justified. _"I'm not knowingly aiding any nefarious plan."_

Nodding slowly, Horace extended a hand in agreement, already calculating how many bottles of mead and containers of crystallized pineapple such an income could provide.

* * *

"I'm surprised to see you, Severus," Andromeda replied warily. "I was under the impression you felt as Bella did about my choice in a husband."

Snape flinched a bit at her words, but managed to disguise it by tossing his head to rearrange his long, limp hair that hung down on either side of his face. True, at one time he felt Andromeda destroyed her reputation by marrying a mudblood. Perhaps it was Dumbledore's influence, or possibly age, but at this point it didn't seem to matter as much to him. At least he didn't think so. Regardless, this wasn't the time to trifle over past prejudices.

"I … regret … that I held such an opinion at the time, Andromeda," Snape began. "I can assure you I did not come today with malice in mind."

It was a curious apology, but Andromeda accepted it nonetheless. However, she remained wary of this man. "May I inquire the purpose of your visit?" she asked, maintaining a formal decorum.

"I have two purposes, actually. One is Hogwarts business, the other is a private request." Her curiosity piqued, she encouraged the man to continue. "I'll start with the Hogwarts business. I wanted to see if you ever had a desire to teach?"

Andromeda was slightly taken aback. She had a few fleeting thoughts over the years about teaching but figured that she would never get the opportunity after it became apparent Snape would become a fixture there. She was skilled in potions and could probably do okay with herbology, but none of the other subjects held her interest. Snape was still young and while Pomona Sprout was starting to get up there, she seriously doubted the herbology professor was ready to hang up her gardening gloves.

"What position are you looking for?"

"Potions professor," Snape answered evenly.

"Where are you going?" she replied, still wary of where this was leading.

"I'm staying at Hogwarts, but I desire to hold the defense position and offered to help find a suitable potions candidate to make that happen. I doubt Slughorn would want to return and I don't feel that Isabella Zabini would be … suited … for teaching. I feel you have the right … temperament … to teach and with Nymphadora now grown I thought the timing might be right."

Andromeda couldn't help but smile at the mention of Isabella, and was honestly flattered to be considered a potions master of that skill level. She would obviously talk to Ted about this, but it felt right.

"I wish to discuss this with Ted, but I am open to it. I'm assuming this would be for next school year?"

"Correct. I have another project I wish to discuss; if you take this on, we shall see each other in three weeks and perhaps you will have decided by then?"

Curiosity again got the better of Andromeda. "I think I will have decided by then. What project are you referring to?" Silently Snape handed over a piece of parchment filled with small, cramped lettering describing a potion to brew … an incomplete potion by the looks of it.

Furrowing her brow, she looked back up at the man. "Where's the rest of it?" she asked.

"I broke the potion into groups due to my other commitments. I am seeking someone to brew this portion for me while I work on another."

Andromeda nodded slowly, racking her brain for what this fragment might be used for. Thinking of nothing particularly lethal or dark, she asked, "So what are the terms?"

Severus, somewhat surprised she would agree so quickly, outlined what he felt a fair compensation would be. He obviously didn't want to offer too much, even though it was Lucius' money.

They quickly found an agreed price and Severus bid her a good day. He had other stops to make today and still needed to get working on his own potion.

* * *

"Would you care for something to drink, Severus?"

Snape stared at the beautiful woman as she swayed toward the kitchen of her rather opulent manner. "No, I am well," he responded tightly.

She was a beautiful woman – a rich, recently-widowed beautiful woman. But this was Isabella Zabini and she now had been recently-widowed four times. Severus knew she was not one to let your guard down around. He had a suspicion her fine skill at brewing potions might have something to do with those four unfortunate deaths and had no intention of playing 'guess the antidote' with his own life.

"Suit yourself," she replied with a wry grin as she re-emerged from the kitchen, a glass of wine in hand. "What do I owe the pleasure, Severus?" she nearly purred as she gracefully folded her legs underneath her to sit across from him. A brief flicker of concern washed across her face as she added, "Is Blaise in some kind of trouble?"

"No Isablla, nothing like that. I was wondering if you needed a job to distract you from your … recent loss." Snape fought to keep his features placid and his voice soothing despite the fact the woman in front of him looked to be without a care in the world.

"What kind of job?"

"I have a client in need of a potion. I don't have the time to brew all the parts he requires so I wanted to see if you were willing. It's straight-forward but requires a … subtle … hand."

Apparently this reference was not veiled enough for Isabella and she arched an eyebrow toward the professor. Choosing to let the comment slide, she merely extended her hand and Snape placed the notes and instructions in her hand.

After scanning the writing for a minute she looked at Snape with a haughty, aloof air – the same look he had seen from her progeny several times. "250 galleons, you supply the ingredients, and allow three weeks."

Nodding in agreement, Snape stood and, having seen Isabella extend her hand toward him, kissed the back of her hand and departed. As he apparated back to the Hogwarts gate, he occupied the back of his mind by weighing the odds of that kiss costing him his life within the next 24 hours.


	24. Chapter 24 The Ethereal Life

**The Sufferer & The Witness**

* * *

**Chapter 24: The Ethereal Life**

"I want ten inches on the giant wars by next week," Professor Lupin called over the second years' bustling to gather their things together and sprint off to lunch. As the students groaned at their new teacher's assignment, Remus approached two Gryffindors that had been sitting in the front row. "Ms. Granger, Mr. Longbottom? Can I have a quick word?"

After exchanging a searching glance between them, both students nodded mutely and resumed packing up their belongings, albeit at a more leisurely pace. Once the rest of the students departed, Lupin casually flicked his wand toward the door, shutting and locking the now-wary pair in the room with him.

As Remus slowly paced, he again tried to organize his thoughts on how to discuss this topic. Despite going over the plan all morning, it still didn't feel right to intercede on someone's behalf. Technically this wasn't his secret to share, even though he had a strong feeling that it would ultimately help Harry and his friends. He would try to 'paint a picture' for the two students and hope they could interpret it correctly.

Finally wrenching his attention away from his thoughts, he stopped in front of the two students and noticed their anxiety. A small smile graced his features. "Don't worry, you two are not in any trouble." Hermione and Neville instantly relaxed a bit, despite the confusion that still etched their face. Sighing heavily, Remus decided to sit on his desk; this could become a long conversation.

"I saw what happened at the ball last week," he started, noticing Hermione's posture instantly stiffen. Plunging forward he continued, "And I want to make sure you're okay. I talked with Professor McGonagall and she assured me that physically you were fine but I wanted to check on you myself. She also mentioned that you have been a very loyal friend to Ms. Granger, Neville."

Neville immediately blushed and bowed his head, mumbling something incoherent to the desktop. Hermione smiled briefly when she turned to Neville, then became serious as she addressed Lupin in a quiet voice, "I'm fine, Professor. Thank you for asking." While she didn't look totally fine, he decided to let it go at that.

"I know I'm a new professor here at Hogwarts, but I do have a bit more experience than most of the other staff at understanding issues in the muggle world. Hermione, I understand you are muggle-born?"

Hermione was uncertain where this was going, but replied anyway. "I am," she said, letting the question in her voice indicate her confusion.

Remus nodded once and then furrowed his brow. "Hermione, have you thought about why Harry might have hit you?"

Despite her lip quivering, Hermione managed to reply. "I have thought about it, but I don't know why he would have done that."

"Do you think it's possible that he might have done so accidentally?"

Neville's head popped up at this point to send a questioning look toward the professor. "Like he was startled or something?" he managed to mumble out.

"Perhaps. Sometimes a person will react in a situation quite differently than you or I would, Neville. It may be because they come from a different culture or, as you mentioned, were caught unaware if they thought something different was going to happen." Here Remus again took a deep breath, hoping that at least Hermione would cotton on to what he was saying. "Sometimes a person reacts in a peculiar manner if they've had to deal with … difficult situations before."

This seemed to do the trick as Hermione's eyes widened and began tracking Lupin's directly. She didn't seem to be able to speak though, so Neville was forced to look confusedly back and forth between student and professor. "Hermione?" he finally questioned, urging her to help fill him in.

Neville noticed his friend now wore a stricken look on her face as she seemed to be pleading with Professor Lupin that what she thought was wrong. "Sometimes …" she started, her voice cracking with emotion. "Sometimes in the muggle world children have parents that don't take care of them. For instance, they may not get food or they may have to take care of themselves if their Mum or Dad are not around." Silent tears started leaking out of her eyes as she noticed the grave look on Professor Lupin's face. He was not contradicting her.

With a shuddering breath she finally turned to face Neville fully. "Sometimes they get mad and … hit their children."

Neville's eyes grew wide as Hermione broke into sobs and flung herself at Neville for comfort. Despite being uneasy with this new arrangement, he realized that Hermione needed this and attempted to pat her back in a comforting manner. Trying to look through her frizzy hair, he caught sight of Professor Lupin looking suddenly very old and tired.

"Is … is that what happened to Harry?" he whispered.

Remus could only nod slowly, feeling confident these two would not abandon Harry, but guilty for betraying his secrets.

* * *

The empty seats around me now appeared in class as well as the Great Hall. I sighed slowly and tried to focus on Professor Flitwick's Charms lecture. I guess I could understand that; the only students in the lower years that weren't scared or suspicious when they saw me were, thankfully, the boys in my own dorm room. Sure, I got a few comments from them about 'decking the mudblood' but once they saw that I looked regretful rather than triumphant they more or less ignored me. Well, Blaise just looked at me in that same appraising manner he always did. Damn him.

Wandering into the library after Charms class, I saw Hermione and Neville at their usual table. _"You have to go over there and apologize; you can't delay this any longer,"_ I mentally scolded myself. Despite feeling like my trainers were now filled with cement, I managed to shuffle over to the two Gryffindors.

"Hermione," I whispered. She kept her head down and continued to scratch out the latest potions essay assigned by Professor Snape. The only clue offered that showed she heard me was the now-white knuckles on her right hand that revealed the death-grip she applied to the quill.

"Why did you hit me, Harry?" she asked in a quiet voice as Nevile's eyes kept darting back and forth between me and Hermione. He looked unsure whether to leave the table or stay and protect Hermione.

I sighed and began to fidget with my book bag. "I guess I was surprised," I started, thinking through my rehearsed speech in my head. For some reason all the words were jumbled up now. "I am deeply sorry for hitting you, Hermione. I know it's difficult to believe, but I truly had no intention on hurting you. I … just wanted to say that bit … I'll leave you be then," I finished lamely and turned to flee the library as quickly as possible.

"Harry wait," she called out softly to my retreating form. I stopped but didn't turn around; perhaps I'm too much of a coward?

"What did you find out about shrivelfig?"

* * *

Dumbledore steepled his fingers together and gazed back at his new History of Magic professor. For his part, Lupin could only stare back at the iconic wizard in stunned silence. "So what are you saying, exactly?"

"I believe the Dark Lord is not dead, Remus. I believe Harry himself will be the one to vanquish him, in an as-yet unknown manner."

Lupin rubbed his eyes wearily, unsure how much more of the Headmaster's words he could take. While the old man was being more direct than normal, he still offered no solutions; only more puzzles to try and solve. "Who all knows about this theory of yours?" he questioned.

"I have kept this information in close confidence. Only myself, Minerva, and Severus know my thoughts on the matter."

"Why Snape?" Remus sharply shot back at the old man.

Wearily shaking his head, Albus sighed and gave a piercing look toward the man before him. "How long will you two continue to hold this animosity, Remus?" Seeing no reply other than a slight shrug, he continued, "Severus is the head of Slytherin and therefore in a much better position to monitor and protect the boy."

Remus merely grunted in acknowledgement. The man did have a point, however distasteful that point may be.

Getting back to the original topic, Remus remembered Dumbledore saying something earlier. "You believe Riddle really was … is … the Dark Lord that the prophecy refers to?"

Dumbledore merely nodded and continued to stare intently at Professor Lupin.

Exhaling slowly, Remus got up out of his seat and began to pace around the Headmaster's office. "So putting it all together," he started slowly, "you believe Riddle heard a piece of this prophecy and felt it referred to Harry. Since he believed the prophecy to be true, he decided to eliminate Harry quickly and therefore fulfill it, allowing him to live."

Glancing over to the Headmaster to see him incline his head to the affirmative, Remus continued, "So you are quite certain that Riddle himself was the one who attacked and killed James and Lily before trying to kill Harry?"

"I am quite certain Riddle attacked Harry. However, I cannot say for certain whether it was indeed Riddle himself who took the lives of James and Lily. Did he execute the order? Certainly. Did he perform the action? Possibly. At this point I feel this is merely a technicality; we know that Riddle is quite capable of killing and may or may not use others to help him accomplish his means. That is all that matters in the present."

Remus nodded grimly and appreciated the subtle means with which the Headmaster nudged him so that he wouldn't dwell on James' and Lily's deaths. Those mental scars were still healing and he needed to let them be in order to try and get on with his life.

"Why do you think Riddle is still alive, then?" Remus asked as he again returned to the chair in front of the Headmaster's desk.

Now it was Albus' turn to slowly stand and pace. "When I arrived at Godric's Hollow, Riddle's body lay in the ruins of the nursery on the second floor. While there is no doubt James and Lily were killed by the _Avada Kedavra_, Riddle's body didn't appear to be in a similar condition. I believe the official report filed by the Aurors was that Riddle attempted the killing curse on Harry and it somehow backfired, or possibly reflected off of Harry, and struck Riddle instead. However, this doesn't adequately explain all three strange phenomena that night. First, Harry was still alive. No one has ever survived the killing curse and a child wouldn't have the recognition to even sense that level of danger. Second, the scar on Harry's forehead. It's most unusual and there weren't similar scars on James or Lily where the killing curse impacted them. This leads me to believe Riddle used a different spell than a simple killing curse.

"While both of these observations may be explained by the Auror's report, the third phenomena was not addressed at all." At this point Dumbledore was back in front of his desk. With sharp clarity in his blue eyes, he placed his hands on the desk and leaned over it to stare directly into Lupin's face.

"Riddle's body did not exhibit the classic signs of being struck with a killing curse. From what I observed, it appeared more like a body that had its soul sucked out by Dementors. That point was never acknowledged or researched by the Aurors. Since there were no Dementors present that night, one can assume that whatever dark spell Riddle tried on Harry managed to somehow disassociate his body with his soul." Dumbledore leaned back and stood upright momentarily before settling back into his own chair. "The shell may be gone, but the spirit lives."

"Then with a new shell, Riddle will rise again," Remus whispered back, eyes wide in realization.


	25. Chapter 25 The Chosen One

**The Sufferer & The Witness**

* * *

**Chapter 25: The Chosen One**

Usually weather in London on a late November makes spending time outside rather unpleasant, and this particular Monday morning reinforced that point. Despite being only half seven in the morning, the weather prognosticators were predicting a daytime high of only 3 degrees Centigrade – which incidentally was the current temperature. They warned the populace that yet another storm bringing wind, rain, and possible sleet later on would be coming in off the North Atlantic later today.

Periodically the commuting masses emerged from various Underground stops bundled up in coats and hats, trying valiantly to keep the cold, wet weather from soiling their work attire. If you had to leave home, being in an office cubicle wasn't a bad way to spend your day today; at least you would be inside and dry.

Lucius Malfoy did not have the benefit of an office cubicle to escape to. Instead, he stood under the eaves of yet another glassy-looking office building whilst surveying the passing muggles. Lucius never thought too much of the muggle world and certainly didn't spend any length of time in it. Except lately, of course.

Every day for the past month Lucius would leave Malfoy Manor early, trying to slip out without waking Narcissa, and head into muggle London. He spent his time wandering around the core business districts, the underground platforms, the shopping promenades … always looking. So far, the only thing he found – beyond a much greater understanding of how to navigate London's neighborhoods – was that he appreciated a good cup of cappuccino, enjoyed reading the Guardian, and rather disliked the heavy feeling in his stomach after a couple pints of Guinness.

Despite having a self-imposed timeline to complete his search by the New Year, Lucius was ready to call it a day. This weather, along with all the early mornings, was catching up to him as he sniffled slightly with the beginnings of a cold. _"Maybe just a quick cappuccino and I'll head back to the Manor_," he thought, tugging his glove off to fish around in his overcoat for the curious paper money muggles used.

As he crossed the street he noticed a promising mark and immediately abandoned all thoughts of a cappuccino. Instead he followed the man at a discrete distance, mentally checking off each of the criteria. Tall and thin? _Check_. Late forties but still-dark hair? _Check_. Dark eyes and fair skin? _Check._ Lucius was also delighted to see that the man walked with a certain … superiority … amongst the other muggles. He didn't wear glasses and looked to be fit enough; he could be the one …

* * *

"Before the Christmas hols I thought it would be good to have a group project."

I groaned internally, joining the audible groans erupting from nearly every student. I hated group projects; it just brought to the fore that the majority of students still were either scared of me or just ignored me. Not that I minded the latter – I came to grips with that years ago. But the former still bothered me, mostly because I wasn't sure whether that fear was warranted or not.

Remus took the groans in stride with a small smile as he counted names on his latest class roster. Our class sizes stabilized now that we were second years, but you never knew if yet another student decided the magical world wasn't for them.

"Okay, we have 21 students right now, so I think seven groups of three would be appropriate. I'll let you choose who you would like to partner with." I didn't even bother to look around; I just waited for the last group of two to realize they were stuck with me and passed the time by doodling on my parchment.

* * *

Daphne, sitting together with Blaise near the windows, merely looked over to the boy and caught his eye. With a slight nod, he confirmed they would partner for this project just like all the other ones over the past year and a half. But this project required a third. If this were Charms with the Hufflepuffs Blaise would already be approaching either Susan or Hannah – Daphne couldn't help but stifle a giggle at how 'suave Blaise' would appear any time the two Hufflepuffs were in the vicinity. But this was History with the Ravenclaws. She made a concerted effort to mingle with the other houses more this year but neither she nor Blaise had reached more than acquaintance status with any of them.

Just when Daphne was about to suggest maybe Ted Nott or Tracey Davis (if Pansy would let her out of her sight) she heard Blaise's voice softly call out, "Hey, Potter …"

* * *

I stopped my doodling and looked up at Remus, but he was preoccupied with guiding our latest reports back into his office using a levitation charm of some sort. _"Great, now I am going mental and hearing things," _I thought and resumed doodling. A few beats later I felt a history book softly thumping into the side of my head and immediately turned to shoot a dark glare at whoever thought this was a fun prank. Only then did I notice Blaise, with wand in hand, looking slightly smug.

"I said," Blaise commented in a slightly sing-song voice, "Potter, do you want to work with us?" I quickly scrutinized Blaise to see if this was some elaborate joke or whether he was serious. If I was honest, Blaise never really made fun of me the way others did; he seemed to prefer staring at me as if he was trying to figure out whether I was even worth his time to acknowledge.

Daphne I really didn't know at all. I vaguely remember her telling me that I would get in trouble if I tracked mud or water in the Great Hall, but that was about the sum total of our interaction so far. Looking at her now, I realized I mostly saw her with Blaise; she didn't seem to hang out with Pansy as much as the other Slytherin girls. But I suppose she seemed nice enough …

"Umm …" I began elegantly, " Yeah, sure."

* * *

The Christmas holidays hit Scotland with partly sunny skies, allowing most of the Hogwarts denizens who were staying at the castle to enjoy a bit of time outside. Dumbledore stood in his office and watched the exodus with a small smile, but his mind was focused on one person who was not present: Severus Snape.

In the nearly twelve years since Severus joined the Hogwarts faculty, he had not once taken time away from the castle over the Christmas hols. Sure he may have gone into Diagon Alley for a few hours, or picked up a pint down in Hogsmeade. But he had never spent more than one night away, much less the several nights he planned on being gone this year. Albus felt a sense of foreboding for the first time in many years, but unfortunately he was at a loss as to why.

* * *

"Are you sure you've combined the potions correctly?" Lucius questioned for what must have been the hundredth time.

"Yes," Severus responded curtly has he continued his precise stirring – nine times clockwise followed by 2 times counter-clockwise, pause ten seconds, then repeat. Repeat for three more days straight, that is. Severus wasn't sure what would happen first – his arm falling off or Lucius wearing a groove in the wooden floor. Unfortunately this step wasn't something he trusted to do with magic; at least not with this particular potion.

"Perhaps you should amuse yourself with … other endeavors, Lucius."

Malfoy stopped his pacing to sneer at the man softly. But even he knew the look wouldn't achieve its desired effect; not against Severus, and certainly not when his own thoughts were so apprehensive. The potion brewing was only part of the problem and Severus clearly had that under control. Lucius' contribution was something much more macabre – he needed to collect his mark.

* * *

"Where are you going, Lucius?" Narcissa called after her husband when he abruptly got up from their late afternoon tea. Her husband's behavior worried her, as lately he seemed to spend more time away from the Manor than ever. She knew his imminent appointment as the Minister's Advisor represented a much larger time commitment, but it was the Christmas hols! Usually Lucius spent as much time as he could at the Manor so that he could see Draco.

"Hmm?" Lucius commented distractedly has he began buttoning up the black overcoat and scanning the floor for his shoes.

"Lucius?" Narcissa questioned again, this time standing and walking over to where he was now summoning his missing left shoe from under the credenza.

The shoe now safely on his foot, Lucius looked up at his wife and gave her a tight smile. "I'm sorry, dear. Another meeting tonight; it seems like they just won't end. I should be back by around seven though, so perhaps you can discuss a later dinner with the house elves?"

Narcissa noticed the tension in her husband's face and manner, but chose to let it pass. Instead she nodded slightly to acknowledge the change in dinner plans and gave him a quick hug before he departed again. Something was going on, but what that 'something' was she had no idea.

* * *

Lucius peered at the passing throngs that were illuminated by only the streetlights and shop windows. The winter darkness plus the gloomy artificial light made the muggle world seem more sinister somehow. He silently wished he could cast a bright _lumos_ spell to ensure he wouldn't miss his mark yet again, but knew it was out of the question. He had no choice but to do this task the muggle way; at least this part of the task, that is.

For a moment he felt rising frustration that he perhaps missed him again, but there – across the street – he saw the mark. For a moment he watched in fascination as the man's tall build and important air caused the people on the sidewalk to seemingly cleave in front of him, clearing a path for a man they seemed to subconsciously know was somehow more important than they were. _"Yes, I have chosen well"_.

Breaking out of his reverie, Lucius followed on his side of the road, crossing over only when it became apparent the mark was heading for the underground station. After a moment's confusion, Lucius successfully paid fare and boarded the same car as his mark before the doors closed and he sped off east.

At the Mile End stop, both the mark and Lucius departed the underground station onto the still-busy surface streets. After pulling his overcoat tighter around his neck to try and block out the chill and drizzle, he followed the man north for a few blocks before turning down a residential street. The man opened a garden gate in front of one of the many flats and headed up the steps to the dark residence. Unlocking the door he entered and turned on a light inside.

Lucius waited for a good twenty minutes for the commuters heading home to thin out. Finally once only one or two people were walking home, Lucius approached the garden gate and swung it open quietly. With a whispered _alohomora_ the front door clicked and Lucius stepped through into the light and warmth of the flat.

The flat itself was nicely appointed, though definitely masculine. It was clear that the mark was not married, although the pictures on the wall indicated that perhaps that was not always the case. Nevertheless, Lucius breathed a sigh of relief that it appeared he would not encounter complications with this aspect of his business.

The man stood in his kitchen, chopping up chicken like a common house elf, while watching that brightly-lit box that so many muggles seemed enamored with. He didn't hear a sound until Lucius whispered in a clear, icy tone, _"Imperio."_


	26. Chapter 26 Assignments Great & Small

**The Sufferer & The Witness**

* * *

**Chapter 26: Assignments Great and Small**

"Now that you're in groups, I thought it would be fun to look at something more modern in wizarding history as a project," Professor Lupin explained.

"Fun?" Draco snorted from behind me.

I tried to keep him from distracting me and focused on listening to the instructions. "I want you to choose some event in the last 50 years and write three feet on it –"

"What!" my classmates shrieked in protest. Remus held up his hands and took on a stern look that instantly quieted the room. I had only seen that look once before, when I mistakenly implied he was a danger to the school because he was a werewolf. I did not want to see it again.

"Now remember you are in groups of three, so that's only one foot per person. Besides, you have two weeks to do your research and writing; I don't see this as some huge undertaking. You're second years and as such I expect you to be comfortable with using the library and writing a well-thought document discussing your findings. You can do this!"

The students around me looked decidedly less sure about their ability to do this. I figured I could grind through it well enough; I didn't know how well Blaise and Daphne did in school but this assignment wasn't really magic so I could carry them a bit if need be.

"Professor? Do you have a list of topics or are we supposed to choose one?" asked an Indian girl who wore Ravenclaw colors.

"I would like you to choose one if you can. For those that need help, I can offer suggestions. Actually, I'll allow you to discuss this for the rest of the class and by the ending bell I hope all groups have a topic.

"One thing to keep in mind is that I would really like you to choose something that requires you to not only gather pertinent facts and describe what happened, but also something that is open to interpretation. For instance, if we were to discuss, say, Headmaster Dumbledore, I would expect you not only talk about his achievements but also talk about how you think his influence has shaped the wizarding world. I want to see your opinion on why your topic matters and what you feel is the result – not just the rehashing of the events and facts. Is that clear?"

I understood, and thankfully Blaise and Daphne seemed to get it as well. Others looked less sure as we all broke into our groups to discuss possible topics. "So do you have any ideas?" Blaise asked Daphne, who began to twirl her hair absently while she thought.

After a few beats she shrugged. "I don't know; maybe we could do something on Nicholas Flamel. He was pretty famous and died recently so there's probably loads of stuff we could talk about." I cringed, not wanting to think about Flamel or the stone he created that I used to beat Professor Quirrell to death last year.

"We could do something on Minister Fudge," I blurted out, obviously my shyness being overcome by my discomfort in talking about Flamel or his blasted stone. Blaise looked at me the same way he always did while Daphne looked mildly interested and gestured for me to continue. "Well," I started as my throat suddenly felt very dry, "He's been minister for a while so we could look at the laws and stuff he's put in place and talk about how they've worked out … and … stuff …"

Daphne looked decidedly less interested and I mentally groaned; the way I described it, even I felt it was probably a stupid idea. _"Great, we'll be doing a report on Flamel,"_ I mentally groused.

Blaise, who was listening politely but not really engaged at this point, looked over to Daphne and raised his eyebrow. She gave him a look of … trepidation … in return before he turned to me. I felt a sudden inexplicable dread wash over me, wondering what this guy was cooking up. "We could do those things," he started slowly, "But I have a better idea. I think we should write about Tom Riddle."

I'm certain my vision blurred for just a second and I know I felt the blood drain from my face. "Tom Riddle?" I whispered. Blaise, giving me that same calculating look I seemed to always elicit from him, merely nodded slowly.

"Have you heard of Tom Riddle, Daphne?" Blaise asked in a light, conversational tone. However, his gaze never left my face.

"I've … I've heard of him," she replied with barely a whisper.

Blaise inclined his head to acknowledge her and again using a light tone replied, "Good, good. I think there's a lot of interesting things we can write about with Tom Riddle. He was quite the controversial politician, don't you think?" At this point Daphne chose not to answer and just looked between me and Blaise.

"So Harry, Tom Riddle? Are you good with that?"

I had to concentrate in order to loosen my grip on the chair and attempt to breathe normally. _"Am I good with that? Are you kidding? He killed my parents!"_ I mentally screamed. But my voice had other plans. "Sure," it croaked out.

* * *

"I can't believe you are so mean, Blaise!" Daphne raged at her friend. "Why would you do something like that?"

Blaise rolled his eyes then hastily stepped away before her swat could connect with his face. "What was that for?" he retorted, momentarily losing his normal cool and composed persona.

"You have got to be the biggest git I've ever met! He practically passed out right there!"

"How else do you suggest we bring this whole thing up, Daphne? Weren't you the one who said we should talk to him?"

"I figured we would just get to know him. Then maybe later we could reveal we overheard his conversation with Professor Lupin."

Blaise snorted in disgust. "Yeah, like that would go over well. Think about it, Daphne. By having to write a paper on Tom Riddle we will find out about the Potters and we won't have to go through all the drama."

"All the drama on our part you mean. Harry will have to go through tons of it as we dredge through stories and say, 'Oh look. Riddle is accused of murdering your parents. Do you want to write about that, Harry?'" Daphne retorted in a high-pitched girly voice. "How would you like it if we chose your mum and had to write about all her husbands that mysteriously died, eh Blaise?"

Blaise turned angry eyes toward Daphne, rooting her to the spot with fear. "Daphne," he growled in warning.

But Daphne wouldn't back down. Despite a new anxious feeling in her stomach she replied, "I know it's a sore subject for you, but why do you think this would be any different for Harry?"

Blaise, despite still being angry, sagged a bit. After a solid minute of staring, he finally averted his eyes and mumbled, "I thought it was a good idea. I thought we would kind of force him to talk to us about it."

* * *

Somehow I found myself with Blaise and Daphne in front of Professor Lupin's desk. Looking up from reading through yet another student essay, he broke into an easy smile before addressing Blaise. "So have you chosen a topic for your project?"

"We have, professor. We would like to write about the politician Tom Riddle," Blaise answered smoothly.

Lupin's smile tightened a bit and he swished his gaze toward me. I could only stare back, probably looking like death warmed over at this point. He then flicked over to Daphne and I also turned toward the final member of our trio. Despite her downcast eyes I could see the splotchy pink hues tinting her face and neck. Did she also have a bad history in her family regarding Tom Riddle?

The professor's voice broke me out of this temporary musing. "I see," he commented softly while leaning back in his chair, abandoning his quill and half-read essay. "He is quite a controversial figure, so I daresay you'll have quite a bit of opinion regarding him. Facts regarding Riddle will be somewhat more problematic though."

"How so?" questioned Blaise, and I noticed even Daphne raised her head in curiosity.

Here Lupin paused, obviously trying to formulate just the right words to clearly convey the matter. I didn't know what opinion Blaise or Daphne had of Riddle, and I could tell the professor didn't either. He wanted to be sure that whatever he said was helpful yet not damning in any way.

"You are correct that Riddle was a controversial figure, Blaise. People in such prominent roles often have two facets of their lives – the public one and the private one. The more prominent the figure, the more rumors swirl regarding how they lead their private lives. Riddle had plenty of speculation surrounding what he did in his private life."

He shot me a quick glance before leaning forward over his desk again. "I would strongly encourage you to limit your paper to his public life in order to ensure you're dealing with fact and not conjecture."

Blaise appeared unmoved by Lupin's 'strong encouragement' but nodded once to show understanding before looking at Daphne and heading back to his seat. Daphne followed quickly behind him, her eyes again downcast and the pink splotches appearing with renewed vigor on her face.

Before I could make my getaway Lupin murmured, "Harry, please stay after class."

* * *

"It is with great pleasure that I appoint Lucius Malfoy as my Senior Advisor. Lucius has a long and distinguished record of service for the British Wizarding world, starting off as a campaign volunteer in 1974. I had the pleasure of meeting Lucius in 1986 while running for Minister and he's become an increasingly important member of my team. Today's appointment merely recognizes officially that Lucius has become an increasingly important advisor to me and my staff. Welcome aboard, Lucius!"

With demure nod of thanks, Lucius strode across the stage and shook hands with his new boss before taking the podium. The Minister maintained his position on the left side in order to allow the media continued photo opportunities while he beamed like a proud parent.

"Thank you, Minister Fudge, for this incredible honor. I look forward to helping the wizarding community in any way I can so that we can continue to excel and set the standard for the rest of the world."

With a final shake of Minister Fudge's hand and a few more pictures, Lucius prepared to step off the podium and return to his seat. "A question please, Mr. Malfoy!"

Lucius scanned the audience and recognized Rita Skeeter from the Daily Prophet. Lucius and the minister discussed the possibility of questions from the press and Fudge advised him brilliantly. Rather than staying at the podium as if expecting the press would want to talk with him, he told Lucius to appear humbled and look to escape off the podium rather quickly. This would immediately cast Lucius in a favorable light and help further dilute the suspicion that Malfoy merely wanted political leverage to further his sizeable business interests.

After inclining his head to indicate she should continue, he stepped back up to the podium and answered a few fairly generic questions rather easily. Rita again raised her hand to ask one final question. "Mr. Malfoy, isn't it true you got your start in politics by being an avid supporter of Tom Riddle?"

Having expected this subject, both men showed no emotion when Riddle's name was mentioned. "Yes, that is correct," Lucius started. "At the time I was just striking out on my own and Riddle's promises to enhance opportunities for pure-blood wizards such as myself resonated with me. I volunteered to help his campaign when he ran for councilman."

"Do you still hold such views, and if so how will you advise the Minister regarding pure-blood legislation?"

Lucius gave a slight smirk and kept his features calm and composed. "Much like many of you, I have the luxury of experience now to help shape my political beliefs. Perspectives change over time, both due to circumstance and to greater understanding. I will advise based on what I feel is best for the British wizarding world as a whole, not just from the perspective of past beliefs or opportunities for personal gain. The Senior Advisor position is another voice for the Minister to hear so he can collect his thoughts on the issues at hand; it's by no means a mandate. The Minister will continue to guide legislation as he sees fit to ensure continued prosperity for our community."

A murmur of acceptance filtered through the gathered throng before the closing remarks drew the press conference to a close.

* * *

Dumbledore turned off the wizarding wireless and turned to the few staff members still in the castle over the Christmas hols.

"He never answered the question," McGonagall called out in a clipped tone to the room at large.

"Lucius has always been especially gifted at both understanding the situation he's in, and responding in such a way as to never give up his position," Dumbledore replied. "He merely leads the listener to the conclusion they wanted to make in the first place, so long as it's a comfortable one that quells the controversy of the day."

"And that is precisely why he is now the Senior Advisor," murmured McGonagall, every head in the room nodding in agreement.


	27. Chapter 27 Strange Bedfellows

**The Sufferer & The Witness**

* * *

**Chapter 27: Strange Bedfellows**

Severus rubbed his eyes tiredly and looked at his watch – two in the morning. Groaning softly at the thought of facing those second-year dunderheads in his potions class six hours from now, he closed Riddle's third ledger. Another night pouring over Riddle's texts and notes to no avail. Somewhere he must have left a clue behind, but up to this point it successfully eluded both Severus and Lucius.

Despite his fatigue, Severus could only lay in bed and ponder this unsolvable dilemma. Perhaps this was a sign; a sign that Riddle should not return. It was already March and both men had spent the past three months reading and re-reading every word, every letter, in Riddle's three ledgers. Lucius even went through the diary, calling it 'intriguing, but ultimately fruitless'.

If Severus were honest with himself, he'd come to realize during the weeks of reading his former leader's thoughts that Riddle was a man of grandiose ambition combined with a certain moral ambiguity that could lead down a dangerous path; Merlin, it did lead down a dangerous path when he was still alive. Brilliant? Most assuredly yes, the man was brilliant. Revered? Not any more, at least by Severus. Whether Lucius still held him in high esteem was unknown, as both men seemed to fear broaching that subject.

At this point the potions master didn't really care anymore about Riddle, it was the unknown magic that kept him going on this pursuit. The potion was ready and he wanted to try it. The mark had been captured and was in a stasis charm down at Spinner's End. Now all they lacked was the spells to make it all happen.

As he drifted off, one final thought flitted through his consciousness. It was a long shot but perhaps … perhaps there is another path to find this knowledge …

* * *

"So … Tom Riddle," Professor Lupin began. I could only nod woodenly, still unsure how all this transpired so quickly. For one shining moment, I felt like someone actually wanted to work with me. Now I realized it was all a setup; Blaise wanted something – or wanted to know something – and that's why he asked me to join him and Daphne. For all I know Daphne is in on this game as well …

"You remember our conversation in the great hall?" Lupin's words shook me out of my internal brooding and I once again focused on the here and now. However my ability to speak seemed to have vanished, as I only managed a jerky nod to confirm his question.

Remus let out a deep sigh and pushed a weary hand through his brown hair. "Harry, you must understand two things about what we discussed earlier. First, I believe Riddle committed those crimes – I really do. But … not everyone is willing to see the events in the same manner. Riddle was never convicted of anything."

I nodded again in understanding, somehow not surprised by this fact at all. "Furthermore," Remus tried to continue but came up short as he struggled against both his rising emotions and finding the right words to convey a delicate topic. "The wizarding world is different from the muggle world. Concepts like equality and justice are viewed very differently here than what you may be used to. Many witches and wizards feel Riddle was at least partially right regarding several of his initiatives."

I felt confused, and my building headache wasn't helping me understand the professor any better. Thankfully my look must have given this away, and Lupin tried a different approach. "I'm sure you've noticed that this world seems old-fashioned; no electricity, quills and ink bottles, and the like? Well, their politics are also old-fashioned. This is a caste society and some politicians like Tom Riddle fought to keep it that way."

While not well-versed in social studies, I generally knew what a caste system was. Seeing the social interactions around Hogwarts helped me validate the professor's claims; it looked like this generation might not move the needle much in that regard.

"So … be careful, Harry. I don't know enough about either the Zabinis or the Greengrasses to know where they fit and what their takes on Riddle might be. Keep your head down and emotions in check around them, okay?" With a forced smile and a piece of chocolate, the professor sent me on my way to ponder how the hell I was going to make it through this assignment.

* * *

Hermione sat at her favorite table in the library, surrounded by books and one round-faced boy trying to fill a few more inches of parchment in his essay. Someone clearing their throat made her and the boy look up from their respective essays to stare that the person intruding on their studies.

"Um, hi. I was hoping you could tell me if you've seen Madam Pince?"

Hermione took the lead, as Neville was staring at the girl quizzically. "It's Daphne, right? I think I saw her go into the restricted section to help out a seventh year."

Daphne looked a bit chagrined at the news and Hermione spied why. She had a rather large stack of tomes under one arm and her book bag in another. Hermione took it upon herself to give Neville a jolt before responding, "You are more than welcome to set your stuff down here while you wait for her." She quickly started scooting her own books and parchment into stacks in order to clear a bit of table space. Neville, now focused on the situation thanks to Hermione's 'reminder', scrambled to get up and help Daphne with her load.

"Thank you … Hermione, right?" Seeing the bushy-haired girl nod excitedly, she had to mentally remind herself what Blaise had told her about Hermione: Tightly-wound, but had a good heart once you got to know her. Putting on a brave face, Daphne braced for the inevitable onslaught of questions.

"That's a lot of books. What are you studying?" Hermione started, just getting warmed up.

"Yes, it's for the history project Professor Lupin assigned. I assume he gave you a similar assignment?"

"Oh yes!" gushed Hermione. "I am so happy the Professor decided to do this so we can learn about something a bit more modern than the Goblin Wars." While Daphne wouldn't necessarily call her reaction to having a large project 'happy', she could appreciate the deviation from their normal topics being a nice change of pace.

"Neville, myself, and Megan Jones from Hufflepuff are doing our essay on Newt Scamander. In addition to all the creatures he wrote about, he was also influential as head of the Department of Magical Creatures and created many of the regulations in place today." Hermione beamed in excitement at the topic, while Neville merely shrugged as if to say, 'Eh, it's school'.

"So what is your topic, Daphne?" Hermione queried as she flipped open one of the books Neville stacked for Daphne on the corner of the table.

"Well, I'm working with Blaise Zabini and Harry Potter. We're going to write about … about Tom Riddle." Daphne had to concentrate in order to keep her voice from trembling at the mere thought of what that man did, if Professor Lupin's stories were true.

Hermione merely nodded in acknowledgement, clearly not knowing who Tom Riddle was exactly. Neville stiffened noticeably and shot Daphne a wide-eyed look. "Tom Riddle? Really?" he whispered.

Daphne could feel her hands shaking now, but looked Neville in the eye and nodded significantly nonetheless. A few moments of tense silence passed between the two, neither diverting their gaze. Hermione could hear the fear in Neville's voice and batted her eyes back and forth between the two, uncertain whether she should question who this Tom Riddle fellow was or not.

Finally Neville found his voice. "How does Harry feel about that?"

* * *

I entered the common room at my usual late hour, which was just before curfew as I had spent the last three hours holed up in an empty classroom going over transfiguration spells in order to get the proper wand movements down. Usually the only students up this time of night were 5th years and above; they were cramming endlessly for OWLs or NEWTs. I shuddered at how horrid those years would be before crossing the room toward the dormitories.

"Harry," a cool, indifferent voice called to me from one of the study alcoves. Despite the seemingly innocuous tone a sickly feeling settled into the pit of my stomach upon hearing it.

"Blaise," I returned, trying to sound just as unaffected and nonchalant as the original greeter. The bastard.

"A word, please." I noticed this wasn't so much as a question but a request. A polite request, but a request nonetheless. With a deep breath, I redirected my course towards the empty chair in the alcove and realized it was actions like this that indicated to the sorting hat why I shouldn't be in Gryffindor.

"How are classes treating you?" he started. I stared back at him incredulously. _Really? After a year and a half of barely acknowledging me he leads off with 'how are classes treating you?'_

"Spectacular," I replied in the most droll voice I could muster, given the circumstances. But for the first time I noticed Blaise – really noticed him. Yes, he still had that cool and collected façade but underneath that was something else. Given my own nerves and the late hour I couldn't for the life of me figure out what that 'something else' was really, but for a brief moment he seemed just a bit more human to me.

"No need for theatrics, Potter," Blaise chastised. Maybe that 'something else' was biting wit. "I wanted to discuss this history project with you. When can you meet with me and Daphne to work on it?"

I shrugged noncommittally, trying to clamp down on the emotions running through me just like Professor Lupin counseled. "I can probably accommodate your schedules."

Blaise gave me another of those appraising gazes before saying, "Every night at 10, here at this alcove. Agreed?"

I could only nod dumbly, perhaps because of my fatigued mind trying to figure out why he proposed such a late hour and an odd setting. Didn't we need to work in the library in order to research?

Before I could ponder this further Blaise got up and swung toward the dormitory before pausing. With his back turned toward me he added, "The topic was my idea. Daphne had nothing to do with it. Understood?" He then turned and gave me another of those appraising gazes, but this one was much … harder … as if he was trying to burn that truth into my very being.

I acknowledged his comment with a slight incline of my head, which he returned in kind before resuming his journey to the dorms. I remained rooted to the chair, trying to sort out just what was going on.

* * *

Severus gathered his breath and visualized the swirling, rippling liquid with a mother-of-pearl sheen. If he stopped to think about it, Severus always wondered why he chose this particular potion, Amortentia, as his occlumency shield. True, the undulating liquid combined with the sheen created a mesmerizing, yet disorienting, field for anyone looking to attack. But whatever stray thoughts Severus had regarding this choice always seemed to vanish just like the tendrils of steam that lazily spiraled up off the surface of his mind barrier.

Not that he was expecting an attack in this situation; rather, he needed the calming presence occlumency brought him. While he didn't outright hate this person, occlumency would keep him from offending them with his biting remarks. He needed her, the crazy old bat.

With a newly created calm and focused demeanor, he strode up to the staff lounge and swung the door open with nary a flick of his wand. "Sybil," he greeted in his occlumency-induced neutral tone.

The unique divination teacher looked up vacantly from the Daily Prophet she perused and blinked owlishly at the dark-haired man before her mind finally latched back on to reality. "Oh, hello Severus."

"Any news worth noting or is it filled with more sensationalist nonsense from that Skeeter woman?" he questioned, recalling a particularly damning article printed by the reporter a few years back that painted Trelawney to be a fraud. Not that he necessarily disagreed, but such a comment would hopefully soften his colleague's tongue a bit.

True to form, a dark look passed across Sybil's features at the mention of Skeeter before softening into one of slight appeasement. "The usual rubbish about what a fine job Fudge is doing. Not much else, I'm afraid."

"And classes?" Severus pressed, taking a seat across from his colleague as he drew a portion of the newspaper she had discarded toward him as if to casually scan the headlines. "Any of your students exhibiting signs of … the 'inner eye'?" He questioned, trying to keep the sarcasm out of his voice.

Apparently he succeeded, because Sybil's countenance didn't seem to change. "I'm afraid there are very few who have the gift. At least there are several who are enthusiastic about the subject, though.

"Oh, I almost forgot to give you my congratulations," she continued. "I hear you will become the Defense professor next year."

"Yes, thank you, Sybil," Snape returned with a slight nod of acceptance. "It appears I was successful in courting Andromeda Tonks to the staff as a potions master. As a result, the Headmaster allowed me to take the Defense job." Sensing an opening, Severus continued, "In fact I'm already starting to prepare my lessons for it."

Trelawney raised an eyebrow in appreciation at her colleague's dedication, feeling slightly unsure why the students' opinion of his classes were decidedly split. She usually prepared for the new school year about a week in advance of September 1st.

"Actually there is one section on dark spirits that I was hoping to gain some of your … insight … on."

"Dark spirits?" Sybil softly queried, making sure she heard Snape correctly. "You don't feel discussing dark spirits could lead to dangerous experiments by the students?"

"It will be for seventh years only, I assure you. I want them to be able to recognize and combat dark spirits, but not give them the knowledge about creating them."

"Well," the divination professor started slowly. "My knowledge of combating dark spirits is rather limited. Others I have spoken to in the field suggest that it is very difficult to do; you might be better off teaching the students how to recognize a summoning ritual for dark spirits instead."

"A wise suggestion, Sybil. Do you perhaps have a reference I can borrow? I need to take care that I can teach how to spot a summoning ritual without giving them the impetus to try such a ritual themselves."

This did the trick, as Snape could see the divination professor's guards relax. "I personally don't have such a reference but I can get one for you before the month is out."

"That would be most helpful," Severus smoothly commented as he rose from the table and bid his colleague good day. He would wait to contact Lucius, but somehow felt this could be the break they needed. With a small scoff he mentally scolded, _"Now it sounds like I believe in divination."_


End file.
